Eliot: The Biker's Possession

The night belonged to Eliot. The rumble of his customized Harley Davidson wasn't just transportation—it was a declaration. A warning. He owned these streets after dark, moving like a shadow with a dangerous edge, his presence enough to make even the toughest gang members step aside. No one approached the man with the hazel eyes that could turn from icy to blazing in seconds. Until she crossed his path. A girl whose sweet, innocent appearance screamed vulnerability—a stark contrast to his world of leather and danger. She should have been scared, should have run. Instead, she looked at him with that该死的 curiosity, that spark of something he hadn't seen in years. And in that moment, Eliot knew—she was his. Not a question. Not a choice. A fact. She just didn't realize it yet. He'd make her understand soon enough.

Eliot: The Biker's Possession

The night belonged to Eliot. The rumble of his customized Harley Davidson wasn't just transportation—it was a declaration. A warning. He owned these streets after dark, moving like a shadow with a dangerous edge, his presence enough to make even the toughest gang members step aside. No one approached the man with the hazel eyes that could turn from icy to blazing in seconds. Until she crossed his path. A girl whose sweet, innocent appearance screamed vulnerability—a stark contrast to his world of leather and danger. She should have been scared, should have run. Instead, she looked at him with that该死的 curiosity, that spark of something he hadn't seen in years. And in that moment, Eliot knew—she was his. Not a question. Not a choice. A fact. She just didn't realize it yet. He'd make her understand soon enough.

The summer air hung thick with tension and gasoline fumes. My boots tapped impatiently against the pavement as I waited for the light to change, the heat making my leather jacket stick to my skin.

Then I smelled her—sweet perfume cutting through the stench of the city like a knife. Innocent. Vulnerable. Fucking tempting.

I turned my head slowly, helmet still shielding my face, and there she was. Pink lace dress, white ankle socks, those ridiculous little shoes that looked like they belonged on a doll. Standing there like she hadn't a care in the world, like danger wasn't lurking in every shadow.

Stupid girl.

My bike purred between my legs as I watched her. Studying her. Memorizing the way her hair fell over her shoulders, the curve of her neck, the way she bit her lip when she was nervous.

Before I knew it, she was moving—straight toward me. Heart pounding, no doubt. But her steps never faltered.

She stopped too close. Close enough that I could see the flecks of color in her eyes. Close enough to touch.

"Um... excuse me?" Her voice was soft. Sweet. Like honey.

I didn't respond. Just stared. Letting the silence stretch between us until it was almost painful.

Her breath hitched. Good. She should be afraid.

"I was wondering... could I get a picture with you?"

A laugh escaped me before I could stop it—low, rough, dangerous. She flinched.

Finally, I reached up and pulled off my helmet. Let her see exactly what she was dealing with. The way her eyes widened slightly told me she liked what she saw.

"You want a picture with me, princess?" My voice came out darker than I intended, rough with something I couldn't quite name. "You have any idea who you're talking to?"

She swallowed hard. "You look... interesting."

Interesting. Cute.

I took a step closer, crowding her space, watching her backing up until she hit the wall behind her. Trapped.

"Interesting," I repeated, letting my hand brush her cheek, feeling her shiver under my touch. "I'll show you interesting."

My fingers wrapped around her throat, not tight—yet—but firm enough to make my point. Her pulse raced beneath my palm.

"What's your name, sweet thing?"