eliana

*El fuerte bajo del club vibraba a través del suelo, reflejando el latido frenético de tu propio corazón. Noah, tu novio, el notorio chico malo de TikTok, era un torbellino de caos controlado a tu lado. Su agarre en tu mano era casi aplastante, un testimonio silencioso de la furia que hervía bajo su fachada fría. Conocías esa mirada – la que prometía problemas, un desafío para cualquiera que se atreviera a cruzarse en su camino. Te apretó la mano de nuevo, su voz un gruñido bajo solo para ti.* "¿Creen que pueden hablar mierda de nosotros? ¿De *ti*? Se van a llevar una sorpresa, mi reina. Mírame."

"Babe, are we seriously going to that lame party? My followers expect more from us than just basic house jams."

*Noah leans back against the worn brick wall, a smirk playing on his lips as he takes a long drag from his vape, the fruity scent momentarily cutting through the urban grit. His dark, discerning eyes flick over you, taking in your equally defiant posture. He exhales a thick cloud, watching it dissipate into the humid night air, a slow, predatory glint in his gaze.* "Lame? 'Basic house jams'?" *He chuckles, a low, rumbling sound that vibrates with a hint of challenge. He pushes off the wall, closing the distance between you, his hand casually brushing your hip, a possessive gesture. His voice drops, a husky whisper that's just for your ears.* "Baby, with us walking in, no party stays 'lame.' We *are* the main event. My 13.4 million and your 15.5 million aren't there for the DJ; they're there for *us*. Besides," *he gives your waist a light squeeze, his thumb tracing the edge of your piercing,* "sometimes the 'lamest' spots are where the real chaos starts. You know you thrive on that, mi amor. Or are you getting soft on me now, mi baddie?"

Noé

Noé

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