Soda Pop Curtis Novelas e Histórias

But until they had Sapphire out of whatever nightmare she’d gotten herself into, he had to tread carefully. Unlike most of the Donovans, who were tall and blond, Curtis was a short, stocky guy with shoulder-length brown hair and a goatee. He had small, kinda beady brown eyes, and a nose that looked too long for his face. At first glance, he seemed harmless enough, until you got to know what a ruthless little bastard he was. “You’ve got a lot of nerve coming here,” Curtis said. “I lost one of my best men because of you, and had to fire another.” Razl snorted. “If they were your best, Donovan, then you need to do some new recruiting.”

Sighing exasperatedly, Stacey looked at Courtney as she said: "I know…. And I hate me for that, but if I…." The squeaking sound of the door opening stopped Stacey's sentence. She glanced up to see Eric with three non alcoholic sodas on his hands. "What were you guys talking about?" Eric asked. "Nothing," Courtney replied nonchalantly, blushing at the sight of Eric who was handsome. And a famous celebrity. Handing the girls the sodas, Eric smiled as he said. "Here…. I know they look like ordinary sodas, but they are not ordinary, these are Eric soda's!" Eric said smugly.

-Curtis: Toots, I want to see you in that daring black lace underwire bustier with cutout panties. I blushed with an exciting grin. -Me: Just name the time and I'll be ready for you. -Curtis: Eleven should be good. Most of these guys are usually in their own zones by then. -Me: Don't disappoint me, Curtis. I truly miss you. -Curtis: I am trying to get some days off so that I can have you to myself. I will officially make you mine when I get back. Are you ready to be marked by me?

“I think they invited me to join them.” “They would,” Aidan said. “They’re asking every woman who wanders past, so Jax sent Curtis over to keep ‘em in line.” “That’d do it,” Zoe muttered. “He’s mega-scary.” “Scarier than King?” Jo asked, slurping the last of her Cosmo. “‘Cause I can’t imagine anyone scarier than King.” Zoe considered her question seriously. “Hmmmmm. OK, no. Not scarier than King, ‘cause King is his own brand of terrifying. Curtis is terrifying-esque. Terrifying lite. But still a damn beast.”

“Tessa, you must’ve sucked up to Mr. Pedro if he spared you and beat up Zoe.” Curtis’ voice carried across the open space with that same biting sarcasm he had always used on her, but this time there was something else mixed into it; something darker, more unsettled. He stood a few steps away, his posture rigid, his eyes scanning her from head to toe as if trying to make sense of a version of her he no longer understood. Tessa didn’t respond immediately. Instead, a faint smile curved her lips, slow and deliberate, as though his words amused her rather than hurt her.

I ask drunkenly. Curtis relaxes. “What? I can't visit my favorite competitors?” “You know you can't be in here!” I say. Curtis smiles. “I can't be with a pretty girl?” He reaches over and place an order at the bar. Shane glares at him. “No drinks for you, get out!” Curtis laughs. “Come on, Shane, you can't turn down a paying customer!” I lean in to whisper to him: “You're probably safer away from here!”

“What happened last night? My head feels like shit.” I pressed my fingers against my temples and squinted. At least that part was true. I had never gotten used to The Viper’s extra special treats. They always left me feeling like my brain had been passed through a mincer. Curtis poured a glass of water and brought it to me, then poured himself one as well. “I’m going to get us painkillers. Do you need anything else while I’m out?”

“Soren will never be a problem to us. He is too small for us” “That he is” Zel acknowled with a satisfied low hum. Curtis believed that Soren was a fly he could deal with. He would deal with him before he even realised what was happening.

There was nothing to be nervous about. "Let's get you another one of those," the Hispanic man said and signaled to the bartender. We began chatting as I sipped on another glass of alcohol. The man sitting on my left was a tall, thin black man named Curtis. He had gone to Columbia and was now an accountant by day. He was clearly very intelligent and witty, and confident in himself. On my right was Greg, who had gone to BYU as a baseball player and become a Mormon missionary before leaving and finding a new life as a high-school gym teacher. He had dirty blonde hair and light blue eyes. He was the shortest of the group, and also probably the most reserved.

“Y’all just gonna gang up on me before we even leave?” “No,” Haylee said softly. “We’re just honest.” Curt raised his can. “Fine. But when I save your lives out there, I expect gratitude in all edible forms and statues.” “No one’s building you a statue,” Lechandray said, snapping her rifle back together with a click that made Curt visibly flinch. "And by the time I'm through with you cuz, the only form of edibles you will be eating will have no sugar contents." “Damn, cuz. Can’t take a joke?”