His one & only love

His one & only love

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WpMetadataReadContenido adultoContinúa1h 10m
WpMetadataNoticeÚltima publicación dom, dic 29, 2019
"Leave me alone Leo! You lied to me, you manipulated me!" I shouted at him as loud as I could. "I did it to protect you." He stared deep in my eyes pinning me to the wall. "Because believe it or not, I actually care about you. And I'd rather die than see any fucker lay a hand on you! You're mine Natalie!" He continued. Anger took over causing him to shake uncontrollably, but he still had me pinned to the wall with his body pressed on mine caging me. ........... Natalie. The sweet rich girl who is most famous for her social media. Born and raised in one of the world's most wealthiest families, the Anderson's family. On her 19th birthday she uncovers a very dark secret that her family has been hiding from her, her entire life. Her being the sensitive girl she is decided to leave the rich life behind and start a new one where there are no lies. And that's where she meets the mysterious Leo. An adventurous future awaits her, but will she be able to handle it on her own? This isn't the sweet vanilla love story people are used to reading. Leo has a rule, and that rule is if it was ever possible for a girl to care for him and love him, she'll have be prepared to be his one and only love forever.
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A scent. A scar. A slow-burning fucking romance dressed as nostalgia. It started with a fruit. Not love, not sex - a goddamn strawberry. The kind that looks like it's been kissed by every shade of red your childhood never had. He didn't share it. Didn't speak of it. Just tasted it once, and carried the ache ever since. Years later, she walked in - smelling exactly like that forgotten sweetness. Not perfume. Not fantasy. Just... truth. Sharp, quiet, terrifying truth. The kind that crawls under your skin and whispers remember me when you least want to. He lied to her face. About himself. About the million ways he'd already started unraveling. But she knew. Women like her always know. She stared at him like sin dressed in judgment - and touched his wrist like she already owned his pulse. And he? He was fucked. Because she wasn't just beautiful. She was red. That memory. That craving. And no matter how much he pretended to be in control - she was already in his bloodstream. This isn't a love story. It's a slow possession. By scent. By memory. By her. And it ends exactly how it starts - with him on his knees, and her smelling like fucking strawberries.

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