They say "meet cutes" are dead and only dating apps can get you the man of your dreams—or a good lay. But maybe, they're wrong? Meet Marcus, he's a rich and powerful investor who has the physique, the face, and the money. Meet Eliot, he's a short, skinny, broke freshman, and extremely shy to the core. This is the story of what happens when these two men get "a little too close" in the subway.
Marcus:
I had not set foot on a subway platform in more than twenty years.
Two decades of private cars, a personal driver, air-conditioned silence, and the soft leather of a Maybach that smelled faintly of real leather and luxury. This morning the Maybach’s engine had decided to stage a quiet rebellion. The backup Tesla refused to unlock. The third car, my driver’s personal vehicle, had a flat. By the time the fourth option fell through, I was already late for a breakfast meeting with
Thanks! This one would be a little slower, more character progression, but still some hot sexy scenes. There will be a "companion book" with similar plot but a different narrator, Marcus's POV. Then as the characters progress they will merge into one book.
I am planning on flexing my creative muscles not my horny muscles. Nyahaha! So I have my outline that needs wrangling, and drafts... so much drafts. Hahaha. Ha. Ha... Hah...
So, anyway, expect the other POV chapter soon, since I just changed the perspective and did not completely rewrite the whole thing. I'm just waiting for the 24-hour wait to pass.
They say "meet cutes" are dead and only dating apps can get you the man of your dreams—or a good lay. But maybe, they're wrong? Meet Eliot, he's a short, skinny, broke freshman, and extremely shy to the core. Meet Marcus, he's a rich and powerful investor who has the physique, the face, and the money. This is the story of what happens when these two men get "a little too close" in the subway.
Elliot:
The subway car was a pressurized can of humanity at 8:17 a.m., the kind of crush that made applied mathematics feel almost comforting by comparison. Differential equations at least had rules. This did not: bodies packed shoulder to shoulder, the metallic screech of rails, the stale mix of cologne and damp cotton.
I'm Eliot Chen, eighteen years and three weeks into my freshman year, and I was trying very hard not to think about the partial derivative of the heat equation
Site admin said the same. I'm a smut writer, so it's gonna be a challenge to hold myself by and not just write sex scenes and filth. moreover, I might have to revise my stories a little more before uploading--actually a whole lot more. Still, It's a challenge I am willing to take. Please, wish this perverted cat luck with the next upload. Nyufufu!
Shane:
"Mom, look I am not failing my classes. My STEM subjects are above average, and my socials are not even that bad. I don't need a tutor."
"Not bad? You are almost failing, if I remember you telling me last week. We need to get behind the future problems and fix them before they even manifest. Got it?"
"Mom."
Mom's smile just got wider as I try to squirrel out of the tutoring. I am not failing but I know my mom wants to help me perform better since, I was the o