Novel & Cerita Suits Fanfiction

“I won’t stop you. But I told you, I didn’t want you out of my sight.” Lukas blinked, stunned. His chest thudded hard, his body tightening involuntarily at the sound of that voice. Who had swapped brains with Aiden? And why did that calm control piss him off? Suit Guy started to relax, his nerves melting into bold hunger. His gaze dragged over Aiden, slow and deliberate. “You’re welcome to join us,” he said, voice low, eye-fucking the doctor without hesitation.

Jpg We open the photo. The same black and red suit but this time his face is on show. His milky white skin contrasts the darkness of his suit, but holy fuck he is handsome. He has this angular face, a chin and jaw dappled with facial hair. His eyes are so dark they are almost ink-black. And his hair had been styled to swoop from one side to the other and back. He screams wealth. He screams desire. Arianna fans her face. "Honestly. I hope you take this opportunity, Lisbeth. It'd be a shame to waste it."

He whistled, turning the bottle to his head and chugging like a frat boy. “This is a ten thousand dollar suit,” I grumbled, using a piece of paper towel to dry my face. I looked down on my shirt which was now damp and stained purple. “You ruined my shirt.” “I'll buy you three more if you promise to take that suit off and have some fun tonight. Dale and Fenton are meeting us at the hotel.” “Don't remind me,” I scoffed. The Delaware twins were a pain in the ass. I didn't consider them my friends, but they were good buddies with my best friend, so I guess they were sort of my friends by association.

“A very large, very jealous someone who is extremely handy with a fist. So you should probably run along.” “Who?” he pushes, because of course he does. Red flags don't take hints. They need a brick wall. I mentally scrolled through my contacts, trying to invent a fake boyfriend with enough menace in his name. Thanos? Brock Lesnar? Before I can invent a fake boyfriend, a presence materialized at my side. The air temperature seemed to drop, the loud chatter of the bar suddenly fading slightly around us. A silhouette that was achingly familiar—tall, sharp-jawed, too handsome for my sanity. Mr. Suit.