BlazeAt about 10 p.m, I was at Carlo's penthouse, my heart hammering in my chest like a drum. I made up my mind to do this shit, but why do I feel like I'm walking into a bigger mess than I already am?I was led in by the tall, bulky dude I always saw every time I came here. He was scary at first glance, but he was so damn mannered when speaking to me. "This way, Mr. Ashford," he said, his tone being the only tolerable thing in this fucking environment."Thank you," I muttered, stepping into the master bedroom. The same room I had been in the other night with that jerk. Now that the lights were brighter, I could take a proper look around.Fuck.He is stupidly rich.No wonder he could pay off a fucking $10 billion debt in one go, and it seemed like his account didn’t even shake. Like serving a cup of water out of the sea.I brush my hand on the dark table in front of the wide mirror, which stands boldly in the middle of the wall. The deep espresso walls set a bold tone in the room, th
CarloSeeing Blaze under me like I've always wanted, squelching... Wetting and flinching under my touch filled me with a kind of ecstasy I can't put into words. The fuck is this feeling?"Hnngh... Shit, is that...hngh... Your fucking finger?" he says, the words coming out mixed with moans."What do you think?" I whisper into his ear, my breath hot against his skin. He has no clue how much I know his body, and doesn't remember our first night. I explored him like a discovery that night.I take him deeper down my throat again, my tongue dragging along his length as three of my fingers constantly work on his favorite spot. His body jerks violently, his hips trembling with every slow thrust of my fingers."Fuck... Fuck..." His voice cracks, raw and desperate, his fingers curling tight around the sheets. My eyes flick up to him, watching his mouth part, his chest heaving as he loses control.I can’t hold back anymore. My own body is on fire, every nerve on edge, my cock throbbing, begging
BlazeThe hand touching me, the lips pasting kisses on my nape, down to my belly... My body shivers, I grunt, still trying to hold back the moan. Maybe because it's been so long or because I am blindfolded, but I feel so sensitive now... Fuck, way too sensitive.His lips travel lower, his breath fanning my skin, my stomach muscles twitching. I try to brace myself, but every fucking nerve in my body is on edge. His hands grip my thighs, spreading me apart like he owns me. My breath hitches when his fingers press against my inner thigh, slow, teasing, almost lazy. "Shit..." I mutter under my breath, my voice barely a whisper. I feel the way he smirks against my skin like he knows exactly what the fuck he's doing to me. Like he knows how easy it is to make my body betray me.My teeth clench, my fists tighten around the sheets. I want to hate this. I fucking should hate this. But instead, my body welcomes him like it's been craving this all along. The blindfold makes everything worse, ev
Hello, my amazing readers! This is your favorite author...uhm, am I your favorite? Well, you still love me I know🤭🤭. This is Soter! First of all, I owe you all a massive apology for keeping you waiting. I know, I know, how dare I? But trust me, life had me in a chokehold. It threw responsibilities at me like an overzealous gym instructor, and let’s just say…I dodged most of them except the ones that kidnapped my time. But here’s the good news—drumroll, please! T.H.O.W will officially start updating on April 1st (and no, this isn’t an April Fool’s joke, I promise I won’t pull anything on you). From that day forward, we’re going full speed ahead, straight to completion by the end of April! No dragging things out, no rushing through like a caffeine overdose, just the perfect mix of drama, fwop fwop😌, chaos, and the unhinged energy that Blaze and Carlo demand. Also, can we talk about how insanely patient you all are? The way you’ve stuck around, sending love, rereading, theorizing, a
CarloA week has passed since the last time I saw that prick. These days, no matter how busy I am, he’s always in my head. I fucking hate the way he lives rent-free there.We’ve gotten used to our meeting days—three times a week. If I need an extra day, I can call him over, but Blaze will make my ears bleed over that. Still, he shows up.As if on cue, my phone lights up and his name pops up. A smile unconsciously plays on my lips as I tap the screen to take the call. His voice comes through my earbud.“Hey, your secretary says you won’t be available,” he blurts out—typical of him. Pleasantries never work with him.I glance at my wristwatch. It’s already 7 p.m. Damn it. We were supposed to meet today, but it’s late, and my work is still piled up.“Hm, still quite busy, but…” I pause for a second, an idea popping into my head. It would be thrilling to have him here. Immediately, my mind floods with possibilities.“Come to my office.”Blaze’s response is instant. “The fuck? I thought we
Blaze“Blaze, fix your damn collar. You look like a stray dog.”I barely turn my head to glare at Carlo as he reaches out, tugging at my jacket like some overbearing mother. His fingers brush against my neck, and I slap his hand away.He had dragged me out today to go see my mother. I mean his gestures lately have been strange, I was shocked to see him ordering everyone around after seeing there’s no caretaker in my mum’s room. Everyone began to scramble around seeing us walk in, I just realized how much he’s a CEO, he’s still a prick to me regardless, just like now.My mind snaps back to him, “The fuck are you doing?” I bark, stepping back. He’s gone insane.“Trying to make you look less like someone who sleeps in a dumpster,” he says smoothly, unfazed as ever, that stupid look on his face again, bastard!I scoff, tugging my jacket back into place. “Mind your fucking business. I didn’t ask for your help.”Carlo just smirks, leaning against his car like he has all the time in the worl
Blaze“Shit. What time is it?” I mumble to myself, staring at the clock on my phone for the tenth time. The race has already started, but I’m still here, sitting on my damn couch like an idiot.I should be there. Max expects me to be there. I’m his fucking coach.But after yesterday’s argument, I don’t know if he even wants to see me.I rub my face, feeling the weight of indecision pressing against my skull. Max was pissed. I saw it in his eyes. That frustration, the way he clenched his jaw, the fire burning behind his words. And now, I’m hesitating like a coward, wondering if my presence will just piss him off more.Fuck it.I grab my jacket and keys, shoving my doubts aside. Max is more than just some racer I’m coaching. He’s… hell, I don’t even know what the fuck he is to me. But I care. And that means getting my ass to the damn track.By the time I get there, the crowd is thick. Engines roar in the distance, tires screeching against pavement. The scent of burning rubber clings to
Carlo“Fucking hell…”I rub a hand over my face, leaning back in my chair, staring at the ceiling like it holds the answer to the chaos in my head. It’s been four days. Four fucking days since Blaze walked out on me, and I swear I’m losing my goddamn mind.I should be pissed. I should be fucking livid that he thinks he can just storm out, slam the door in my face, and go on like I never fucking existed. But I’m not angry.I’m obsessed.Blaze has always been unpredictable, always ready to fight me even when I give him everything. But this time, it’s different. This time, he actually fucking left. And I can’t stop thinking about him. Every damn second, my mind goes back to that moment—his sharp, furious glare, the way his voice shook with rage when he told me we were done. Like he meant it. Like he actually fucking meant it.I don’t accept that.My fingers tap against the desk, my teeth grinding as I try to focus on the reports in front of me. But my patience is wearing thin. It’s been
CarloAfter one month of the accident that made Blaze consider my pathetic love, if I had known that was the solution I would have bumped into a tree a long time ago… I am back to the office.“If you don’t give me that fucking hotel, I’m gonna send the second drive to dad. And this one has more than just company shit, Carlo… this one proves you’re fucking a man. The heir to Davenport, the golden boy, the one he’s been grooming since we were kids… balls deep in a fucking guy. Think about that.”That’s how William walks into my fucking office at 7AM.No fucking good morning, not like we have good relationship to say pleasantries anyway, but straight up blackmailing me is fucking insane. Just like him.I lean back slowly in my chair, trying to pretend my head isn’t already throbbing from everything else going on. My jaw clenches, and I force my voice to stay calm even though every muscle in me is screaming to fucking pounce on him.“You’re bluffing.”“Am I?” William smirks, tossing a fla
Blaze“Felix’s drunk ass is at my bar again. You might wanna come get him before he breaks something.”That’s the fucking call I get at 1:34 a.m. Just when I thought this night couldn’t get any worse. I’m lying in bed, staring at the goddamn ceiling, half replaying Carlo’s bullshit from earlier and half trying to pretend I don’t care. But then that call comes in and all my attempts at peace flush straight down the fucking toilet.I drag myself out of bed, throw on whatever hoodie I can find, and head out. It’s not even about wanting to go. It’s guilt. It’s instinct. It’s… fuck, I don’t even know anymore. All I know is, Felix is at his worst, and I’m the only person who probably still gives a damn.By the time I get to the bar, it’s exactly what I expected. Dim lights, sticky floor, music too loud for this dead hour, and Felix slumped at the edge of the counter, head half in a glass, mumbling to himself. His face is flushed, eyes glassy. It’s that mix of broken and belligerent that onl
Blaze“Dude, that bike looks like it was smashed into a rock, the fall was messy,” Alexi continues to rant as we walk to the shop together, but my feet fucking freeze the moment we get to the front.“Woah, what a fucking handsome rich dude, he looks like the wealthy God from Greek. Damn, I suddenly remember I have a working pussy,” she whispers, eyes wide and stuck to the tall figure casually smoking in front of my shop like he owns the place.“What the hell, Alexi… Thought you were the top and you’re not into ‘dicks’?” I ask, forcing a smile, but the truth is, my stomach is in knots, flipping like it’s on crack.“Yeah, but trying it once with that gorgeous figure is an achievement,” she mutters. I don’t laugh. I can’t even move a fucking muscle.Carlo. That stupidly gorgeous bastard. His shirt is slightly open, tattoos on full display, hair slicked perfectly to the side, fucking polished from head to toe like he belongs in a mafia fantasy. His head’s down, so he hasn’t seen us yet, b
Blaze“You actually suck at this. Move. Let me do it.”Alexi snatches the wrench from my hand like I just committed some kind of sacred sin, and I don’t even fight her on it. I step back, wiping sweat from my neck with the back of my hand, watching her lean over the greasy engine like she owns the damn thing.“You know I’m still recovering from rich-boy trauma, right?” I mutter, lighting a cigarette and squinting at her through the smoke. “Three weeks out and I still flinch every time I see marble floors.”She snorts. “Yeah, well, this ain’t no penthouse, sugar. This is grease, fuel, and freedom. Welcome back to the land of the living.”I smirk a little.Three months. That’s how long it’s been since I walked out of Carlo’s place and didn’t look back. Since I shoved every memory, every fucked-up emotion, and every craving for his touch into a goddamn box and tossed it somewhere far away.This new place? It’s loud, rough, smells like gasoline and old tires, and I fucking love it. I open
Carlo“Whiskey. Double shot. Don’t go light.”The bartender doesn’t ask questions. Just pours and slides it over, it’s been a long time I came here but they still treat me like a regular. The glass hits my lips, and it burns like it’s supposed to. I stare at the bar stand where Blaze used to stand, all cocky and full of heat. It’s dead now. Cold. Like someone ripped the fucking soul out of the place.I down another.The club smells different without him here. It’s got that same stale sweat and desperation vibe, but it’s missing the spice. The fire. The fucking heartbeat. And I hate that I came here thinking maybe I could feel close to him. Maybe I’d see a shadow of him in the corners. Dumb shit like that.“You look like you need more than just a drink, man.”The voice comes from behind me. Smooth. Confident. I turn my head and there’s a guy—dark hair, pierced lip, smirking like he knows exactly what he’s offering. I don’t respond right away. Just stare.He’s not Blaze. But he’s got th
CarloDays pass.Then weeks.Then fucking months.Every morning I wake up hoping he’s on the couch. Hoping I’ll smell his skin again, hear him cussing at the coffee machine. But it’s just silence. Cold, empty fucking silence that echoes louder than a scream.The bed feels too fucking big. I roll to his side every night like a goddamn addict chasing a fix that ain’t there. I breathe into his pillow even though the scent’s faded. I still look for his towel on the bathroom rack. His boots by the door. But all I see is absence.I hire a private investigator. I pay triple to get the best. They come up with nothing. No name, no face, no trace. Like he never fucking existed.I start checking the places we used to hang out—bars, the old underground garage, that beat-up taco truck near Fifth where he always asked for extra hot sauce and never finished the food. I even go back to the last racing ring we chilled at, the one where he nearly punched a mechanic for scratching someone else’s car. I
Carlo“Where the fuck is he?”That’s the first thing I mutter the moment I walk into the penthouse. I drop my bag by the door and look around like he might be hiding behind the damn curtains. But the place is too clean. Too quiet. The air smells like furniture polish and nothing else. No cologne, no cigarette smoke, no burnt toast from his lazy attempts at breakfast. It’s just empty.“Blaze!” I call out louder this time, my voice bouncing off the damn walls.Nothing.I head into the bedroom, push open the door like I expect him to be passed out on the bed or curled up under the sheets with one of my hoodies like he usually does. But it’s made. Neat. Fucking untouched.“Goddammit.”I check the bathroom. Closet. Balcony. Nothing.I pull out my phone and dial him again. It goes straight to voicemail—again. Just like it’s been all fucking week. I thought maybe his phone was acting up, or maybe he lost it. I even joked about it to myself on the plane, thinking I’d get back, find him half-n
Blaze“You still think this shit is love, Blaze?” Felix asks, his voice sharp like a damn knife to my ear. “You really gonna keep choosing Carlo over your fucking sanity?”He’s pacing the penthouse like a caged dog, arms crossed, jaw tight, eyes wild. It’s just me and him now that Carlo left for that bullshit business trip. The place feels too big. Too quiet. Too fucking cold.I don’t look at him. I just sink into the couch, legs stretched, a glass of whiskey in hand. My body aches. Or maybe it’s just my soul. I don’t fucking know anymore.I roll my eyes, dropping my phone on the armrest. “You’re still on that shit?”“I never left that shit,” he fires back. “Blaze, I’m your best fucking friend. I’ve watched you drown in this toxic-ass mess for too long. I ain’t gonna pretend like I’m cool with it just ‘cause he buys you pretty things and fucks you right.”I stare at him. That silence between us tightens.“I love him,” I say, flat. Like the words don’t even mean shit anymore.Felix sto
Carlo“You’re still here?” I mutter, walking into the living room and spotting Felix on the couch like he fucking lives here.He glances at me, smug as ever. “Good morning to you too, Carlo.”I hate his voice. Too calm. Too fucking smug. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think he’s trying to get under my skin on purpose. But I do know better—he is.I walk past him without saying another word. I’m not in the mood for his bullshit, not this early. I head straight for the stairs, checking on Blaze first before I deal with anything else. He’s awake, sitting up in bed with his crutches leaning against the nightstand, flipping through some stupid magazine.His room smells faintly of antiseptic and vanilla—him. The curtains are half-drawn, sunlight slicing through the room in streaks. He looks comfortable, like he’s finally getting used to being home again. There’s something peaceful about that. The kind of peace I don’t get often.“Hey,” he says, eyes lighting up when he sees me. “Thought yo