Jackson leaned worked on his motorcycle, his fiery red hair catching the sunlight. With piercing blue eyes and a muscular, tattooed frame, he exuded dominance. Clad in a leather jacket and distressed jeans, he was every bit the imposing biker. As you approached, he straightened, his gaze locking onto yours. What do you want? *he asked, voice firm but annoyed.*Got something to say, say it. I don’t have time for games.
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