Summer Wine
He wore only grey sweatpants; his bare, tanned torso gleamed like a bronze statue in the sunlight.
He was practicing shooting at mechanical targets launched into the sea with his heavy, black, silenced gun. With each pull of the trigger, the muscles in his broad shoulders and back tensed with an incredible rhythm, hitting the target perfectly with every shot. As I slowly bit into a strawberry, letting the sweet, red juice spread across my tongue, I couldn't take my eyes off his flawless, macho physique. He knew just how godlike and dangerous he looked when he was focused.
After detonating the final target in mid-air, Matteo released the safety and placed the gun on the table.
Bab Populer