The storm had hit and it was a fuckin hurricane.He was dressed head to toe in black, the uniform of a creative director but there was nothing else typical about him. He wore dark sunglasses inside and had a cigarette tucked behind one of his ears.His hair was strangely, unevenly cut and was slicked back and wet-looking. He had a beard.It's practically a prerequisite in this world it wasn't one of those massive hipster beards that made ordinary men look like lumberjacks. It was short and well-groomed and so damn sexy.He would have been a sight under normal circumstances, but considering that only a few hours before he'd had me bent over his car seat. He was quite a sight.He wore a full suit, pants, jacket, waistcoat, tie- the works. He even had a black piece of fabric sticking out of his jacket pocket.Who dresses like that?Does he think he's Don Draper from Mad Men?He was almost gentlemanly-almost. But the tattoo that popped out from under his cuff and ran the length of the bac
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