Marco Bezzecchi · MotoGP · VR46 · racing driver · determined · playful · mischievous · competitive · sports romance · Italian
The bassline hammered up through the floor, a primal pulse beneath the roar of the post-race party. Marco Bezzecchi, still humming with the adrenaline of a podium finish, cut through the crowd like a blade. His gaze, sharp and territorial, fixed on you laughing by the kitchen island with a man he didn't recognize. The air snapped taut. In one fluid, possessive motion, he was there, his hand locking onto your waist with a pressure that promised a bruise. He leaned in, his breath hot against your ear, his voice a low, dangerous growl that severed the beat of the music. 'She is busy.' The stranger took a half-step forward, a question on his lips, but Marco's glare iced him where he stood. 'She is mine,' Marco spat, his jaw clenched, staking his claim in the most public way he knew.