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Natalia was all softness and sensuality. A forbidden fruit presented on an irresistible platter. She was draped in innocence, the light in my room dancing off her perfect skin, turning her into a feast for my starving senses. I remember how her eyes wide and filled with anticipation, lips slightly parted as she took shallow breaths. I stepped closer to her until I could feel the heat of her skin mixing with mine.
The scent of vanilla wafted from every part of her, mixed with another scent that was uniquely hers - sweet innocence with a hint of something darker. It sparked a wildness in me causing my cock to throb painfully against the fabric of my pants.
Her nipples were hard pebbles pressing against me, begging for attention. Each one was like candy- fleshy tips that hardened under my touch. Cupping them, I enjoyed the moan that escaped her lips as sensation shuddered through her.
I rasped a growl against her soft lips that had been wetted in nervous anticipation. A slight nod gave me her answer and emboldened by it and that was all took, I palmed her naked breast while my other hand dipped down, past the line of her silky panties. Pressing kisses along her jawline down to the column of her neck, I caressed her nipples, causing them to harden even more as she arched her back in pleasure.
Lifting up again, my gaze locked onto those hardened peaks, and my mouth watered at the sight. Each one was a perfect peak of desire begging me to taste them. Running my thumb over one nipple, then the other had her writhing underneath me. Her little gasps of pleasure were like music in the silence of my room, stoking the already raging fire within me.
I spent time relishing each the way her mouth formed a sexy O whenever I tweaked each nipple between my fingers, and her soft cries when I leaned down and took one into my mouth. A strangled cry echoed around us as I sucked and kneaded at her breasts with an uncontrolled need, memorizing every sigh, every gasp, every cry that slipped from her lips.
The heat radiating off of her body was intoxicating. Her soft moans urged me on, daring me to explore further, deeper. And I did. With great delight, I reveled in each shudder and squirm she made under me.
We explored each other with hungry hands and even hungrier kisses. Our bodies twisted and tangled together in desperate need to be closer.
Her breath hitched when my hand slid lower down to cup the sweet mound, nestled between her smooth, thick thighs through her lace panties. Her hips rose off the bed, meeting my hand halfway, silently pleading for more touch, for more pressure.
She whispered a moan against my neck just loud enough for me to hear. That word alone set off fireworks inside me. It was a permission, a plea, a promise, all wrapped up in one simple word.
This is what gives me hope - the burning memory of making her mine keeps me going even as fear gnaws at the edges of my mind, threatening to take hold.
Natalia is alive.
I refuse to believe otherwise.
For her, I will fight to the ends of the earth and beyond if need be. Natalia is mine. And I am going to bring her back no matter what.
Tonight, in this desolate motel room, my sense of urgency and desperation to find Natalia is growing exponentially with every second that passes. We'll turn over every fucking stone and won't stop until we find her.
3
Natalia
All I haveto do is blend in.
The scorching sun of Taos, New Mexico beat down on me, streaming through the cracked window of the roadside diner. Sweat trickled down my back as I took a seat at the counter and tried to hide my face behind a menu. Memories of my past life as Natalia Romano, daughter of a notorious mafia boss, flooded my mind, making it hard to focus on the simple task of ordering breakfast. But today, I was determined to start fresh as Talia Rogers, just another face in this small town, hoping to find an honest job and leave my past behind.
The warm and inviting atmosphere of the diner envelops me as I take a seat at the counter. Its name, Jeanie's Diner, is etched in faded letters on the window. The worn-out tiles on the floor give off a comforting creak underfoot, as if they have been walked upon by countless customers over the years. The familiar scent of mediocre coffee and sizzling bacon wafts through the air, intermingling with the faint aroma of cleaning products. Golden sunlight pours in through the wide front windows, casting a cozy glow over every nook and cranny of the space. It feels like stepping back in time, surrounded by what I'm guessing they hope to pull off as vintage decor and the ambiance of a classic American diner.
It's a stretch but what do I know.
I'm sitting at the counter, nursing my cup of coffee. My clothes are simple and a bit worn – a plain T-shirt and jeans, my hair tied back in a practical ponytail. I'm trying to be invisible, just another traveler passing through.
Perched on a stool at the counter, I cradle my steaming cup of coffee. My clothes are simple and a bit worn. Faded blue jeans that have seen better days hug my legs and a plain white T-shirt clings to my torso, slightly wrinkled from hours of travel. My dark hair is pulled back into a practical ponytail, strands escaping here and there. I keep my gaze lowered, avoiding any unnecessary.
The owner, who I presume is Jeanie, bustles around the small diner with an air of motherly warmth. Her movements are graceful and smooth as she tends to the customers, her presence like a comforting hum in the background. She's a robust woman, with streaks of gray in her hair that add to her wise demeanor. Laugh lines crinkle around her eyes, hinting at a life well-lived. She's wearing a floral apron over a simple dress, giving off a relaxed vibe. But there's also a sense of no-nonsense about her, as if she runs this place with efficiency and precision.
I overhear her talking to another customer about needing help around the motel and diner. Her voice carries a hint of exhaustion and weariness, but also determination. It's clear that she's been working tirelessly to keep this place running. As she speaks, it's like a lifeline thrown my way, offering me an opportunity to be a part of this bustling little community.
Gathering my courage, I square my shoulders and turn towards her. "Excuse me, Miss Jeanie?" My voice shakes a bit as I address her. She looks at me, her eyes sharp but not unkind. "I couldn't help but overhear that you're in need of some help around here?"
She tilts her head slightly, taking in my appearance. I know I must look ragged and desperate, but I push down the anxiety churning in my stomach.
"Yes, I do," she answers, a hint of tiredness in her voice. "You looking for work?"
I nod eagerly, trying to keep the desperation off my face. "Yes, ma'am. I can do... pretty much anything you need."
Jeanie studies me for a moment, her gaze assessing and calculating. "What's your name, hon?"
