The salty breeze of Salt
Beach in Kings Harbor stung my nose as I stepped onto the gritty shoreline, my
bright pink sneakers crunching against the pebbles. I was dressed for the heat
in a fitted, short-sleeved crop top with a subtle leopard print pattern that
clung to my perky A-cup tits, paired with high-waisted, frayed denim mini
shorts that hugged my plump ass and showcased my toned legs. Dark sunglasses
rested on my head, catching the glint of the morning sun as it filtered through
the scattered clouds. My heart-shaped face, framed by dark, wavy hair cascading
past my shoulders, was set in a determined grimace. I’d come to retrieve my BMW
E21, the silver beast that had carried me through so much shit, but the sight
before me stopped me cold.
There it was—my fucking car,
torched to a crisp. The charred skeleton of my E21 sat in the sand, its
once-gleaming frame now a blackened husk, the work of Zion’s Blade, that
Eastern European Jewish gang I’d fucked over one too many times. My brown eyes
burned with fury, long lashes fluttering as I fought back the sting of tears.
That car wasn’t just metal—it was my hustle, my freedom, the blood and cum I’d
spilled to earn it. I clenched my fists, full pouty lips curling into a snarl
as I kicked the nearest tire, the rubber long melted into a grotesque puddle.
“Motherfuckers,” I hissed, my voice trembling with rage. I wanted to scream, to
hunt down every last Blade bastard and make them pay, but I was stranded,
alone, with nothing but the wreckage of my dreams.
My phone buzzed in my shorts
pocket, snapping me out of my spiral. I yanked it out, seeing Laura’s name
flash on the screen. My sweet, naive ally—18, white, blonde, green-eyed, with
that cheerleader vibe that always made me smile despite the chaos of my life. I
answered, trying to steady my voice. “Hey, Laura.”
“Happy birthday, Mira!” Her
voice was bright, practically bursting with excitement. I froze, my anger
momentarily replaced by shock. Birthday? Shit, I’d completely forgotten. Today
was my fucking birthday, and I was standing here mourning my car like some
pathetic bitch.
“Thanks, babe,” I managed, my
tone softer now, though my shapely thighs still trembled with pent-up fury. “I…
kinda forgot about that.”
Laura giggled, oblivious to
my mood. “What are you up to? I’ve got something planned to cheer you up!”
I glanced at the smoldering
remains of my E21, my pale ivory skin prickling with the heat of both the sun
and my rage. I couldn’t drag Laura into this mess—Zion’s Blade was my problem,
not hers. “I’m pissed,” I admitted, keeping it vague. “Some assholes fucked up
my car. It’s trashed.”
“Oh no, that’s awful!”
Laura’s voice dripped with sympathy. “Well, I’m gonna make your day better. I
threw you a birthday party! It’s tonight at 8 p.m., at a penthouse in Liberty
Heights. You’ll love it!”
My stomach twisted, a mix of
gratitude and dread. “Who’s hosting?” I asked, my voice tight, already
suspecting the answer.
“Khalid!” Laura chirped, like
it was the best news in the world. My heart sank. Khalid—the sleazy, overweight
Arab client I’d met at Club Obsidian in Liberty Heights, the one I’d fucked on
his penthouse terrace alongside his escorts, Lena and Zara, after a drug-fueled
night. His bold hands and unapologetic lust had left me bruised but $2,000
richer. I didn’t want him anywhere near Laura.
“How the fuck did you find
Khalid?” I asked, forcing my tone to stay calm, though my full lips pressed
into a thin line.
Laura laughed, oblivious to
my unease. “I saw him hyping you up on all your TikToks, commenting like a
total fanboy. Then I found videos on his profile of you two partying at
Obsidian. I figured you were friends! His lifestyle looked so extra, so I messaged
him about throwing you a birthday party, and he was all in—offered his
penthouse and everything!”
I wanted to scream. Laura,
you stupid, sweet girl. Khalid wasn’t my friend—he was a client, a mark, a man
who’d fucked me raw while snorting coke off my ass. But I couldn’t snap at her,
not when she’d gone through all this trouble. “That’s… really sweet of you,
Laura,” I said, my voice tight but sincere. “I’ll be there. Promise.”
We hung up, and I shoved my
phone back into my pocket, my mind racing. I considered calling Kemar, my
Jamaican lover with that thick patois and 10-inch cock, or Blaze, the blonde
Iron Reaper biker who’d fucked me senseless under a billboard after the factory
ambush. But no—mixing my lovers in one place was a fucking disaster waiting to
happen. I’d rather check on Aiden, my junkie best friend, and see how he was
holding up in rehab. But with my E21 gone, I needed wheels.
I knew Pete’s garage in Steel
Borough had some of my car-flipping projects. If I was lucky, one might be
ready to roll. I hailed a cab, the driver barely glancing at my curvy frame as
I slid into the back, my long legs folding gracefully despite the fury still
simmering in my chest. The ride to Steel Borough was quick, the streets of
Foundry District buzzing with rap battles and murals as we pulled up to Pete’s
gritty shop. I stepped out, my leopard print crop top catching the eye of a few
mechanics as I strode inside, my plump rear swaying with purpose.
Pete was there, the gruff,
bald, early-40s white mechanic with a beer gut and hazel eyes, hunched over a
workbench. “Mira,” he grunted, wiping his greasy hands on a rag. “What’s up?”
“Need a car,” I said, my
brown eyes scanning the garage. “My E21 got fucked. What’s ready?”
He nodded toward a white ‘80s
Lotus Esprit Turbo in the corner, its sleek lines gleaming under the
fluorescent lights. “That one’s done. The other’s still a work in progress.” I
walked over, running a hand along the Lotus’s hood, my long lashes casting shadows
on my high cheekbones as I admired the work. It’d do.
But I needed Pete to keep his
prices low for my business, and I knew what he wanted. He’d fucked me before,
back when I picked up the E21, and I could see the hunger in his hazel eyes as
they raked over my hourglass figure. “You’ve been good to me, Pete,” I purred,
stepping closer, my full lips curling into a seductive smirk. “Wanna make sure
you stay motivated?”
His grin was instant,
predatory. “Fuck yeah, I do.”
He hopped onto the hood of a
nearby car, a beat-up sedan, his legs spread as he unbuckled his belt. I knelt
in front of him, my toned legs folding beneath me, my mini shorts riding up to
expose more of my shapely thighs. His cock sprang free, a thick 8-inch beast,
veiny and already hard, the head glistening with precum. I licked my pouty
lips, my brown eyes locked on his as I wrapped my delicate fingers around his
shaft, stroking slowly, feeling the heat of him against my pale ivory skin.
“Shit, Mira,” he groaned, his
voice rough as I leaned in, my tongue flicking out to tease the tip, tasting
the salty precum. I swirled my tongue around the head, slow and deliberate, my
lips stretching wide as I took him into my mouth, inch by fucking inch. My
throat relaxed, years of practice making it easy to take him deep, my full lips
sealed tight around his girth. I bobbed my head, my dark, wavy hair swaying
with the motion, my tongue working the underside of his cock, tracing every
vein as I sucked him hard.
I pulled back, letting his
cock pop free with a wet smack, a string of spit connecting my lips to his tip.
“You like that, huh?” I teased, my voice low and husky, my hands still pumping
his shaft, slick with my spit. I dove back in, taking him deeper, my throat
constricting as I gagged slightly, the sound making him groan louder. I worked
him faster, my lips and tongue a fucking symphony on his cock, my hands cupping
his heavy balls, rolling them gently as I sucked him like a goddamn pro.
Pete’s hands tangled in my
hair, gripping tight as he started to take control, his hips thrusting up to
meet my mouth. “Fuck, you’re too good at this,” he growled, his voice thick
with lust. I let him take over, my hands bracing on his thighs as he fucked my
mouth, his thick cock slamming into my throat with every thrust. My brown eyes
watered, but I held his gaze, my long lashes fluttering as I took every brutal
inch, my throat stretched wide, spit dripping down my chin.
He picked up the pace, his
grip on my hair tightening, his cock pounding my throat like a fucking
jackhammer. “Gonna cum, you little slut,” he snarled, and I moaned around his
shaft, the vibration pushing him over the edge. His cock pulsed, hot cum shooting
straight down my throat, thick and salty, filling me up as I swallowed every
fucking drop, my throat working to take it all. He kept thrusting, slower now,
milking every last spurt into my mouth, my lips still sealed tight around him
as I drank him down, not spilling a single bit.
Finally, he pulled out, his
cock softening as I licked my lips, my full pouty mouth glistening with spit
and a hint of his cum. I stood, wiping my chin with the back of my hand, my
shapely thighs flexing as I adjusted my shorts. “Keep those prices low, Pete,”
I said, my voice firm but playful, grabbing the Lotus keys from his workbench.
He just nodded, still catching his breath, as I strutted out of the garage, my
plump ass bouncing with every step, ready to face the rest of this fucked-up
birthday.
I slid into the driver’s seat
of the Turbo Esprit, the leather cool against my toned legs as I adjusted my
leopard print crop top, still clinging to my perky A-cup tits. The taste of
Pete’s cum lingered in my mouth, a salty reminder of the deal I’d just sealed
to keep my car-flipping business running smooth. My dark, wavy hair spilled
over my shoulders as I fired up the engine, the roar of the Lotus vibrating
through my hourglass frame. I was headed to the rehab facility in Port Morris,
a sprawling complex near The Junctions, to check on Aiden, my junkie best
friend who’d been through hell. My brown eyes, framed by long lashes, flicked
to the rearview mirror, catching a glimpse of my heart-shaped face—high
cheekbones sharp with determination, full pouty lips set in a grim line. This
birthday was already a fucking disaster, and it wasn’t even noon.
The drive through Port Morris
was a chaotic blur of street vendors and transit hubs, the air thick with the
scent of global street food from The Junctions. I parked the Lotus near the
rehab center, a sterile-looking building with faded brick walls, and stepped
out, my bright pink sneakers hitting the pavement with a soft thud. My
high-waisted, frayed denim mini shorts hugged my plump ass, drawing a few
stares from passersby as I strode inside, my dark sunglasses still perched on
my head. The receptionist barely looked up as I signed in, my pale ivory skin
catching the fluorescent lights as I made my way to the games room where Aiden
was supposed to be.
I spotted him immediately—19,
white, skinny as fuck, with messy black hair and green eyes that lit up when he
saw me. Aiden was hunched over a foosball table, looking healthier than I’d
seen him in months, his gaunt frame filling out a bit, his movements less
jittery. “Mira!” he called, his voice cracking with relief as he rushed over,
wrapping me in a bony hug. I hugged him back, my shapely thighs flexing as I
steadied myself, his familiar scent of cheap soap and cigarettes grounding me
for a moment.
“You look good, kid,” I said,
pulling back to study him, my brown eyes searching his face for any sign of the
old Aiden—the one who’d stolen weed from Kemar’s crew or scammed Zion’s Blade
with fake coke. “How you holding up?”
“I’m fucking done with that
shit, Mira,” he said earnestly, his green eyes wide. “I swear, I’m clean. I
don’t wanna go back to that life. Please, get me outta here. I can’t stand
another day in this place.”
I crossed my arms under my
perky tits, my full lips pursing as I weighed his words. “You’ve said that
before, Aiden. How do I know you’re not gonna fuck up again the second you’re
out?” I pressed, my voice sharp but not unkind. I wanted to believe him, but
I’d seen him crash too many times.
He ran a hand through his
messy hair, his skinny frame trembling with desperation. “I’ve been clean for
weeks. I’m going to meetings, doing the work. I even started painting again—see
that mural on the wall? That’s mine.” He pointed to a colorful piece across the
room, abstract swirls in blues and greens. “I’m serious this time, Mira. I’ll
do whatever you say, just get me out.”
His sincerity hit me hard,
those green eyes pleading in a way that tugged at my heart. I sighed, my long
lashes fluttering as I nodded. “Alright, but I’m talking to your doctor first.
Stay here.” I left him in the games room, his hopeful gaze following me as I
headed down the hall to the doctor’s office, my plump rear swaying with every
step, my mini shorts riding up just enough to turn heads.
The doctor’s office door was
ajar, and I knocked lightly before stepping inside. Dr. Ellis was behind his
desk, a white guy in his late 30s, about 5’10”, lean but fit, with short sandy
hair, sharp gray eyes, and a clean-shaven jaw that tightened when he saw me. He
wore a white coat over a button-up shirt, his tie slightly loosened, and there
was a quiet intensity to him that made my skin prickle. “Miss Mira,” he
greeted, standing up, his voice smooth but with a hint of curiosity. “Here for
Aiden, I assume?”
“Yeah,” I said, closing the
door behind me, my brown eyes locking onto his as I leaned against the desk, my
curvy frame on full display. “He says he’s ready to leave. I wanna know what
you think.”
Dr. Ellis nodded, stepping
closer, his gray eyes flicking over my leopard print crop top and the way it
hugged my perky A-cup tits. “Aiden’s made solid progress. His vitals are
stable, and he’s been engaged in therapy. But he’ll need strict supervision—someone
to keep him accountable. Relapse is always a risk.” His gaze lingered on my
full pouty lips, and I caught the shift in his tone, a subtle heat creeping in.
“You seem like someone who can handle that responsibility.”
I smirked, sensing the
opening, my long lashes fluttering as I tilted my head. “I can handle a lot,
Doc. You’d be surprised.” My voice was low, teasing, and I saw the spark in his
gray eyes, the way his jaw clenched with interest.
He stepped even closer, his
hand brushing my arm, his touch sending a shiver down my pale ivory skin. “I
don’t doubt that,” he murmured, his voice dropping as he leaned in, his lips
crashing against mine. I kissed him back, hard and hungry, my full lips parting
to let his tongue in, our mouths battling as he pressed himself against me. His
hands roamed my body, groping my plump ass through my mini shorts before
sliding up to my crop top, tugging it off with a swift motion, leaving me in
just my black lacy bra.
“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” he
growled, his hands cupping my small tits through the lace, his thumbs teasing
my nipples until they hardened. He pushed me back against his desk, my toned
legs spreading slightly as I leaned back on my hands, my dark, wavy hair
spilling over the edge. He unhooked my bra, tossing it aside, his gray eyes
darkening with lust as he took in my perky A-cup tits, pale and perfect against
my ivory skin. “These little tits are fucking perfect,” he muttered, leaning
down to suck on one, his tongue swirling around my nipple as his hand kneaded
the other, pinching and rolling the sensitive bud until I gasped.
“Shit, Doc, you don’t waste
time,” I moaned, my voice thick with need as he worked my tits, his mouth hot
and relentless, sucking and biting just hard enough to make my shapely thighs
clench. He moved to the other nipple, his teeth grazing the sensitive flesh,
sending jolts of pleasure straight to my tiny 2-inch cock, already hard and
straining against my black lacy hipsters. His hands slid down my sides, tracing
the curve of my hourglass figure, his fingers digging into my pale skin as he
worshipped my small tits, leaving them slick with his spit, my chest heaving as
I leaned back further, my brown eyes half-lidded with lust.
He pulled back, his gray eyes
burning as he grabbed my hips, pulling me up to sit on the edge of the desk.
“Let’s see the rest of you,” he said, his voice rough as he tugged at my mini
shorts, yanking them down along with my hipsters in one swift motion, leaving
me completely exposed. My toned legs dangled off the desk, my shapely thighs
spread wide as I leaned back on my elbows, my dark hair fanning out behind me.
His gaze dropped to my tiny cock and tight balls, and I saw the shock flicker
across his face, his gray eyes widening for a moment. “Well, fuck,” he
muttered, his voice low, but the hunger in his expression didn’t waver. “I’d
never have guessed, but you’re way too sexy for that little cock and balls to
stop me.”
“Glad you think so,” I
purred, my full lips curling into a smirk as he knelt between my thighs, his
hands spreading them wider, exposing my tight asshole and tiny cock to his
greedy gaze. He leaned in, his breath hot against my skin as he wrapped his lips
around my 2-inch cock, sucking hard, his tongue flicking over the sensitive
head. “Oh, fuck!” I gasped, my head tipping back as he worked me, his mouth a
wet, hot vice, sucking and licking until my tiny cock throbbed, precum leaking
onto his tongue. He didn’t stop there—his tongue slid lower, tracing down to my
asshole, lapping at the tight ring with slow, deliberate strokes, teasing me
open as I moaned, my long legs trembling on either side of his head.
“Goddamn, you taste good,” he
growled against my hole, his tongue pushing inside, fucking me with wet, sloppy
thrusts as his hands gripped my shapely thighs, holding me in place. He ate my
ass like a starving man, his tongue plunging deep, swirling and sucking, making
my tight hole twitch and clench around him. My tiny cock bobbed above, leaking
steadily now, the pleasure building in my tight balls as he worked me over, his
gray eyes glancing up to meet my brown ones, the intensity in his gaze making
my heart race. I was a fucking mess on his desk, my pale skin flushed, my full
pouty lips parted as I panted, completely at his mercy and loving every second
of it.
Dr. Ellis stood up, his gray
eyes blazing with raw hunger as he unbuckled his pants, letting them drop to
the floor. His cock sprang free, a throbbing 7-inch beast, thick and veiny, the
head already slick with precum. I was still perched on the edge of his desk, my
toned legs spread wide, my shapely thighs trembling from the way he’d just
eaten my ass and sucked my tiny 2-inch cock. My pale ivory skin glistened with
a sheen of sweat, my dark, wavy hair fanning out behind me as I leaned back on
my elbows, my brown eyes locked on his dick, full pouty lips parted in
anticipation. My black lacy hipsters and frayed denim mini shorts were long
gone, leaving my plump ass and tight balls exposed, my perky A-cup tits still
slick from his earlier attention.
“Fuck, I need to be inside
you,” he growled, stepping between my thighs, his hands gripping my hips as he
lined himself up with my tight asshole, still wet from his tongue. He pressed
the head of his cock against my entrance, teasing the sensitive ring before
pushing in, slow and deliberate, stretching me wide as I gasped, my long lashes
fluttering. “Shit, you’re tight,” he muttered, his voice rough as he sank
deeper, inch by fucking inch, until his thick 7-incher was buried to the hilt,
my hole clenching around him like a goddamn vice.
“Oh, fuck, Doc!” I moaned, my
voice thick with pleasure as he started to move, pulling out halfway before
slamming back in, his hips smacking against my plump ass with a wet slap. He
fucked me hard, his hands roaming up to my perky tits, groping the small
mounds, his thumbs flicking over my nipples as he pounded my ass, the desk
creaking under us. “Yeah, fuck me like that,” I panted, my brown eyes
half-lidded as I took every brutal thrust, my tiny cock bouncing between us,
leaking precum onto my pale stomach. His fingers slid lower, cupping my tight
balls, rolling them gently as he railed me, the dual sensation making my head
spin, my shapely thighs quivering as I braced myself against the desk.
He leaned down, his mouth
crashing against mine, kissing me hard as he fucked me, his tongue plunging
into my mouth in time with his cock in my ass. I kissed him back, my full lips
hungry, my hands gripping his shoulders as he picked up the pace, his thrusts
growing faster, deeper, each one hitting my prostate just right. “Goddamn,
you’re a fucking dream,” he snarled against my lips, his hands sliding back to
my tits, pinching my nipples hard as he slammed into me, the pleasure-pain mix
making me cry out, my voice echoing in the small office. I could feel him
getting close, his cock throbbing inside me, but just before he came, he pulled
out, his chest heaving as he stepped back, his dick glistening with my juices.
“Fuck, I’m not done with you
yet,” he said, his voice low and dangerous as he grabbed my arm, pulling me off
the desk. My toned legs wobbled as I stood, my plump ass still tingling from
his rough fucking, and I sank to my knees in front of him, my brown eyes locked
on his cock, now slick and throbbing just inches from my face. I licked my
pouty lips, my heart racing as I wrapped my delicate fingers around his shaft,
stroking him slow and firm, feeling the heat of him against my pale skin. “You
want my mouth, huh?” I teased, my voice husky as I leaned in, my tongue
flicking out to lap at the head, tasting my own ass mixed with his precum.
“Fuck yes,” he growled, his
hands tangling in my dark, wavy hair as I took him into my mouth, my lips
stretching wide around his thick 7-incher. I sucked him hard, my tongue
swirling around the head, tracing every vein as I bobbed my head, taking him
deeper with every pass. My throat relaxed, letting him slide in until my nose
pressed against his pubes, my full lips sealed tight around the base as I
gagged slightly, the sound making him groan. “Shit, Mira, you’re a fucking
pro,” he muttered, his grip tightening as I worked him, my hands cupping his
balls, rolling them gently as I sucked and licked, my spit dripping down my
chin.
I pulled back, letting his
cock pop free with a wet smack, a string of spit connecting my lips to his tip
as I grinned up at him, my long lashes fluttering. “You taste so fucking good,”
I purred, diving back in, taking him deep again, my throat constricting around
him as I moaned, the vibration making his hips buck. I worked him faster, my
lips and tongue a goddamn symphony on his cock, my hands pumping the base as I
sucked him like my life depended on it, my pale skin flushed with heat as I
knelt there, completely at his mercy.
Dr. Ellis groaned, his hands
gripping my hair tighter as he pulled me off his cock, his gray eyes burning
with need. “Get up here,” he ordered, pulling me to my feet and leading me to a
small couch in the corner of his office. He sat down, his cock standing
straight up, slick and throbbing, and I straddled his lap, my toned legs on
either side of his hips, my plump ass hovering just above his dick. I reached
down, guiding his 7-incher back to my tight asshole, the head pressing against
my entrance as I lowered myself, taking him in inch by inch, my hole stretching
wide as I sank down, a low moan escaping my full lips.
“Fuck, that’s it,” I gasped,
my hands bracing on his shoulders as I started to ride him, my hips grinding
down, making his cock rub against my prostate with every motion. I moved slow
at first, savoring the stretch, my tiny cock and tight balls pressed against
his stomach as I rocked back and forth, my perky A-cup tits bouncing slightly
with each movement. He grabbed my ass, his hands digging into my plump cheeks,
spanking me hard as I rode him, the sharp sting making me cry out, my brown
eyes locked on his gray ones, the intensity between us electric.
“Ride that fucking cock, you
little slut,” he snarled, his hands guiding my hips as I picked up the pace,
bouncing on his dick, my shapely thighs flexing with every thrust. I leaned in,
kissing him hard, our tongues battling as I rode him, my hips grinding down,
his cock hitting my prostate just right, sending waves of pleasure through my
body. My tiny cock throbbed, leaking precum onto his shirt, and I could feel
the pressure building, my tight balls aching as I fucked myself on his dick, my
pale skin slick with sweat.
“Shit, I’m gonna cum!” I
cried out, my voice breaking as I ground down hard, my prostate taking a brutal
hit, and I came, my tiny cock spurting hot cum across his shirt, the white
fabric staining with my release. My hole clenched around his cock, the spasms
pushing him over the edge, and he groaned, his hands gripping my ass as he
thrust up into me, unloading deep inside my ass, his hot cum filling me up,
thick and endless, as I shuddered in his lap, my long lashes fluttering, my
full pouty lips parted in a silent scream of pleasure.
I collapsed against him, my
chest heaving, my perky tits pressed against his shirt as his cock softened
inside me, cum leaking out around him, dripping down my shapely thighs. “Fuck,
Doc, you’re good,” I panted, my voice hoarse as I slid off his lap, my pale
skin marked with his handprints, my plump ass sore but satisfied. He just
smirked, wiping the sweat from his brow as I grabbed my clothes, pulling my
mini shorts and crop top back on, my movements slow and deliberate, my body
still buzzing from the rough fuck.
“I’ll keep an eye on Aiden,”
I said, adjusting my dark sunglasses on my head, my brown eyes meeting his.
“He’s coming with me.” Dr. Ellis nodded, still catching his breath, as I
strutted out of his office, my long legs carrying me back to the games room, my
mind already shifting to the next crisis. Aiden was waiting, his green eyes
lighting up when he saw me, and I gave him a nod. “Let’s go, kid. You’re on my
watch now.”
I led Aiden out of the rehab
facility in Port Morris, my bright pink sneakers squeaking on the linoleum as
we headed for the parking lot. My leopard print crop top clung to my perky
A-cup tits, still damp with sweat from Dr. Ellis’s rough fucking, and my
high-waisted, frayed denim mini shorts hugged my plump ass, the fabric slightly
stretched from being yanked off and on. My pale ivory skin was marked with
faint handprints, a reminder of the doctor’s grip, and my dark, wavy hair
swayed with every step, my dark sunglasses now shading my eyes. Aiden trailed
behind me, his skinny frame moving with a nervous energy, his green eyes
darting around like he couldn’t believe he was finally free. I could feel Dr.
Ellis’s cum leaking out of my tight asshole, a slow drip soaking into my black
lacy hipsters as I walked, my shapely thighs flexing with each stride. My brown
eyes, framed by long lashes, were sharp with focus—I’d promised to keep Aiden
clean, and I wasn’t about to let him fuck up on my watch.
We slid into my Turbo Esprit,
the leather seats cool against my toned legs as I fired up the engine, the roar
of the car cutting through the quiet of The Junctions. Aiden buckled in beside
me, his messy black hair falling into his face as he turned to me, a small
smile tugging at his lips. “Thanks, Mira,” he said, his voice soft but genuine.
“I know I’ve been a fuck-up, but I’m gonna make this right. I swear.”
I glanced at him, my full
pouty lips curling into a half-smile as I pulled out of the parking lot, the
Lotus purring under my control. “You better, kid,” I said, my voice firm but
warm. “I’m not dragging your ass out of another trap house. You’re sticking
with me, and if I even smell weed on you, I’m dumping you back in rehab faster
than you can blink.” My heart-shaped face softened as I spoke, my high
cheekbones catching the afternoon light filtering through the windshield. I
meant every word—Aiden was family, and I’d fight to keep him safe, even if it
meant being a hard-ass.
The drive back to Liberty
Heights was a chance to catch up, the city’s skyline looming closer as we
crossed into the glittering core of Empire City. Aiden told me about the rehab
program, the art therapy that had kept him sane, and the other patients he’d
bonded with. I listened, my brown eyes flicking between him and the road, my
long lashes casting shadows on my pale skin as I nodded along. “Sounds like you
found something good in there,” I said, my voice softening. “Hold onto that,
okay? You’re better than the shit you’ve been through.”
He nodded, his green eyes
earnest, and for a moment, I let myself believe he could stay clean. We talked
about lighter stuff too—his favorite bands, the mural he’d painted, and my
chaotic morning, though I kept the details vague. No need to tell him about
Zion’s Blade torching my E21 or the filthy deals I’d made to keep my hustle
alive. My plump ass shifted in the seat, still sore from Dr. Ellis’s cock, and
I winced slightly, adjusting my mini shorts as we neared my apartment building
in Midcity, a grimy walk-up I’d fought tooth and nail to call home.
The sun was dipping low,
casting golden light over the neon-lit skyscrapers of Liberty Heights, when the
world fucking exploded. A deafening boom rocked the street, the shockwave
rattling the Lotus as I slammed on the brakes, my heart pounding in my chest.
“What the fuck?!” I shouted, my voice sharp with panic as I gripped the
steering wheel, my brown eyes wide with shock. Aiden grabbed the dashboard, his
skinny frame tensing as he stared out the windshield, his green eyes reflecting
the orange glow of flames in the distance.
“Shit, Mira, that’s your
building!” he yelled, pointing ahead. I followed his gaze, my full pouty lips
parting in horror as I saw thick, black smoke pouring from the windows of
Apartment 503—my fucking apartment. The glass was shattered, flames licking at
the edges, and the air was thick with the acrid stench of burning wood and
chemicals. My pale skin prickled with dread, my long legs trembling as I
floored the gas, speeding toward the building, my mind racing with a thousand
possibilities. Zion’s Blade—they had to be behind this. Those motherfuckers had
already torched my car; now they were coming for my home, my sanctuary, the one
place I could call mine.
I parked the Lotus out front,
the tires screeching as I came to a stop, my curvy frame already moving before
the car fully settled. “Stay here!” I barked at Aiden, throwing open the door,
my toned legs hitting the pavement as I ran toward the entrance, my dark, wavy
hair whipping behind me. My perky A-cup tits bounced under my crop top, my mini
shorts riding up as I sprinted, panic clawing at my chest. I had to see what
was left, had to know if anything could be salvaged—my clothes, my cash, the
few things I’d fought so hard to keep. But before I could reach the door,
Aiden’s skinny arm grabbed mine, yanking me back with surprising strength.
“Mira, stop!” he shouted, his
green eyes wild with fear as he pulled me against him, his grip tight on my
arm. “You can’t go in there! It’s a fucking trap—don’t you see? This isn’t an
accident. Someone did this, and they might still be around!”
I froze, my brown eyes
darting between him and the burning building, my full lips trembling as his
words sank in. He was right—Zion’s Blade didn’t fuck around. If they’d blown up
my apartment, they could be waiting to finish the job, to take me out once and
for all. My shapely thighs quivered as I stood there, torn between rage and
fear, my pale skin slick with sweat as the heat from the fire washed over us.
“Fuck,” I whispered, my voice breaking as I stared at the smoke pouring from my
home, the life I’d built going up in flames on my goddamn birthday.
“We gotta get outta here,
now!” Aiden urged, his voice desperate as he tugged at my arm, pulling me back
toward the Lotus. I let him drag me, my long lashes wet with unshed tears as I
stumbled back to the car, my heart pounding in my chest. I slid into the
driver’s seat, my hands shaking as I gripped the steering wheel, my brown eyes
fixed on the smoldering wreckage of Apartment 503. Aiden buckled in beside me,
his skinny frame tense as he kept glancing around, like he expected Blade thugs
to come charging out of the shadows.
I floored the accelerator,
the Lotus roaring to life as we sped away from the burning building, the
streets of Liberty Heights blurring past us in a haze of neon and smoke. My
mind was a fucking storm—Zion’s Blade had taken everything from me today, my car,
my home, my sense of safety. But I wasn’t done. I’d survived their warehouse,
their bullets, their fucking gang-rapes, and I’d survive this too. My plump ass
clenched in the seat, my body still buzzing from the day’s chaos, but my
resolve was harder than ever. They wanted a war? I’d give them a fucking war.
We sped into the evening,
Empire City’s skyline glowing against the darkening sky, my birthday stained by
loss and danger. But I wasn’t broken—not yet. I’d fight back, claw my way out
of this mess, and make every last one of those Blade bastards pay. Aiden’s hand
rested on my arm, a quiet promise he had my back, and for the first time that
day, a flicker of hope sparked in my chest. I was Mira, and I was fucking
unstoppable.
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