Pain.That was all she felt as her eyes slowly opened.Pain and a burning in her back. While it seemed her back had been set aflame, her arms felt as if they were about to fall off. Jasmine resisted the urge to scream, knowing completely why she was in pain. How easily she had been caught. She knew it was endgame she'd felt those big calloused hands grab across her neck when she dashed for the brightly lit door, feeling a sense of daylight behind it. An escape; one which failed terribly. Now she was so sure this was her end. She was going to die. No one would save her. After the torture of being whipped over a hundred times, she would finally have to die. how she was still alive was beyond her knowledge.Her eyes adjusted to the dimly lit room fairly quickly. Her back burned, she didn't know how long she could take the pain, already her head was dizzy. Jasmine looked around what seemed to look like a cell, her eyes landing on a figure which stood to the side, concealed by shadows. Jas
In a split moment, Jasmine was able to open her eyes, fully conscious of who she was looking at; his face wasn't as beautiful as when she had first fallen in love with him; it beared splashes of blood, strips of sweat, and a growing paleness. But he was smiling. Her eyes were focused on him thinking this could all be a dream but he was smiling, and that made her heart happy. She didn't care that her whole body felt like she was in a fire pit; or that he wa starting to look as white as casper the friendly ghost; he was smiling at her an that, that made her heart happy. She was in his arms, it was cold but she felt warm in his embrace. Looking into her eyes and watching the little light in her eyes, that gave Marcelo hope; hope that no matter what happened to him, she was alive; and that she could still make it. "Still breaking locks chicca?" he said to her, his voice hoarsed. "they were never locked! I love you Marcelo!" warm tears streamed down her eyes. He laughed. A sweet soft sou
Three weeks of hiding, even in the most luxurious hotel the city of Buea had to offer did Marcelo Marchesa no good. He was a messenger. His job was to travel around the world. He was a neutral link to all the biggest and baddest cartels in the world; even the enemies. He had only one rule: stay neutral.One rule by which he could have had the world at his feet. But because of some stupid greedy issues, he'd kicked out the golden life and now had to live like a refugee.Normally a refugee like him would go to Singapore or Cancun or some fancy place for safety but because the Russian mafia weren't stupid bullshiters, he had to find the most discreet location he could. It would have never been his idea; it was his sister's: Serena, to seek refuge in the coast, west of Africa; precisely Cameroon.True enough, no one was ever going to find him there. And it could only last till Damian Belikov
Her little encounter with the white guy hadn't passed unnoticed. Her friends had buzzed about it for like an hour, even forgotten about the birthday they were celebrating. Once the topic went low key, the girls began their celebration proper. But as much as she tried to enjoy the moment, his face, his body building, his amber brown eyes, his voice, his accent! Oh that accent! It all haunted her psyche. It got worse when he came back and settled at the other end from where they were having their party. His nose looked red, he had a pair of dark shades on. He wore the same white shorts he had on the first time he came out but with now a white tank top that showcased his toned muscled arms. He laid on a beach stretcher and seemed to be in another planet.Jasmine found the freedom to stare at him as much as she wanted. For she felt like he wasn't even one bit interested in looking their way. But this wasn't the case. As she stared at him so did
Tossing and turning on her bed all night, Jasmine couldn't bring herself to sleep. So bad it started annoying her little sister with whom she shared a room. The little Jenna had to escape up to her mother's bed; who was working a night shift.By the early cold hours of the morning, she was already up and in the kitchen. Cooking was one of her passions and also it helped her relief stress. And she was so stressed. She barely had an hour of sleep in six, and still hadn't been able to kick the thought of the Italian 'guappo' out of her head.The clock read 06:14 and Jasmine had already made a tray full of pancakes and was still making more. She knew in the back of her mind that her mother would skin her alive if all of it wasn't eaten but she was too preoccupied to care. Sounds of kitchen utensils hitting against each other could be heard all through the house.A visibly very annoyed Jessie enter the kitchen looking
For the past thirty minutes they just sat at the table, trying to avoid each other's eyes. Jasmine fumbled with her phone. Marcelo had two but couldn't focus on anything other than the beauty in front of his eyes. And when she'll look back, he'd turn his eyes away. He got frustrated with the silence and decided to force up a conversation,"So, tell me a little about yourself chicca?""Uhm! What?" She wasn't expecting he would start up a conversation."Dios!" He rolled his eyes, "Just tell me about you. This silence is uncomfortable and I hate it." Marcelo grumbled,"You! It's like you don't know how to tolerate people. You're so grumpy.""I am just not a tolerant person and this..." He scowls and scans the ice cream shop where they sat, "this place is not my setting.""You said I should take you to my favourite place; well, here we are.""
For the past thirty minutes they just sat at the table, trying to avoid each other's eyes. Jasmine fumbled with her phone. Marcelo had two but couldn't focus on anything other than the beauty in front of his eyes. And when she'll look back, he'd turn his eyes away. He got frustrated with the silence and decided to force up a conversation,"So, tell me a little about yourself chicca?""Uhm! What?" She wasn't expecting he would start up a conversation."Dios!" He rolled his eyes, "Just tell me about you. This silence is uncomfortable and I hate it." Marcelo grumbled,"You! It's like you don't know how to tolerate people. You're so grumpy.""I am just not a tolerant person and this..." He scowls and scans the ice cream shop where they sat, "this place is not my setting.""You said I should take you to my favourite place; well, here we are."
Nothing ever scared Jasmine as what she felt in that moment, when Marcelo kissed the life out of her lips. As she laid there on her bed, in the middle of the night, unable to sleep, her mind knotted hard on the memory: his touch; how his hands moved over her body, across her skin, gently caressing every spot he touched in the most erotic manner ever. The possessiveness of his lips against hers; never leaving her a second of control. It was all him. Even when she'd been so weak in her knees that she couldn't stand, he'd been her pillar: taking her small frame up to meet his movements, his demands. God! If not for the fact that she could still hear herself think, she would have been helpless in stopping him from taking her right there.Now she wondered: "what will he be thinking of me?" What will he be thinking of her? Because she'd discarded him horribly when she'd felt his hands slipping under her shirt. It felt good! Really