Feliciano Vargas Novels & Stories

“I know you taste as good as you smell.” He ripped my panties off me, eliciting a gasp from me. I tried to close my legs to shield myself from him but he wouldn't let me. He didn’t understand; no one had ever touched or seen my vagina before. He was the first and only man to see me. I was very insecure. Did I look okay? Did he like that I’d shaved? “You have nothing to be ashamed of,” he said as he aggressively pushed my thighs apart. He looked at my center like it was the prettiest thing he had ever seen.”Perfetta.” (perfetta - perfect)

If the mind was intrinsic then that would be a futile race. She had met Jensen on one of the tours she took during this time, a twenty-two year old redhead with a heart of gold and a fiancé in Daly city. Jensen worked as a consultant in an insurance company and wanted to put down some roots. Jensen had just been approaching the end of her journey and loving the company Clara provided had really wanted Clara to come with her. Jensen had offered her a position at the new studio she was opening in Cali as her first step to a stable, stress-free retirement. She had wanted Clara on the team, claimed she had a Midas touch with the camera. Clara had found it both baffling and endearing at the same

Philip recognized the man, but not the lady, and he was surprised when the man saw him and approached him with the beautiful young lady. "Maestro felipe!" The man said with a smile as he shook hands with Philip. "It's nice to see you again, Dr. Mathew." Philip said with a smile. Dr. Mathew was a big man with medicated eyeglasses and white hair, he was definitely in his sixties perhaps a little older than his father, who was turning sixty. Dr. Mathew was a very intelligent man with a friendly personality and he occupied an important position in the CRUZ company.

The pain surging through my veins began to lighten and I found myself feeling great. “How do you feel?” Vogar's deep voice resounded in my head. “Great,” I gasped as excitement settled in the pit of me. “Are you ready to go for the run?” “Yes. Yes,” I responded, snapping my eyes open. That was what Elisa was dying to have. She wanted a little freedom. I wasn't concerned about my bare anymore. It was gonna be a one-time thing for me. As for Elisa, her happiness was the most important.

He said to me offendedly. My jaw dropped open at the backhanded insult. He had the guts to insult me in front of Nikolai like knew there would be no consequences. Nikolai turned to face us and crossed his arms against his chest. If he thought that he could trample on my authority, dignity, and insult my gender all in one statement then he was wrong. I was mafia now and I needed to put people in their place. I lifted my hand and slapped Vincenzo hard. I stepped into his personal space and looked him in the eye despite the fact that I was much shorter than him and he was looking down on me.

'There was a sudden deem lights, Phelan remembers someone, who was Don Carlton telling her to go lay down and rest. She tried to refuse, but he was too strong, and she was unable to stop him. It was so sudden that Don stood, watching Phelan in a distant approached her in a smile that shed some lights in the deem lights that came from the window. A meter from Phelan, Don put his hands on her shoulders, and then made an excuse and left.

Anunsyo ni Hellios. After announcing that, a man entered the room. He looked like he is in his 60's. He was with a guy. We all bowed down to him but still couldn't help myself to take a peek. Bumigat ang awra nang pumasok ang lalaking iyon. Sa hindi maipaliwanag na dahilan, bumigat ang pakiramdam ko. ‘So he's the infamous Augustus Luciano Valencia.’ “At ease.” Nagulat ako nang marinig ang boses na iyon.

I can’t skip it. By the time I make it to the training ground, everyone’s already gathered. The chatter dies down as Luna Serena steps forward, her presence commanding. She scans the crowd, her usual calm and authoritative expression firmly in place. “Alright, today’s going to be… fun,” she begins, a sly smile tugging at the corners of her lips. The word ‘fun’ sounds like a threat. “I’ve brought in someone special for you all—a combat master.” Excited whispers ripple through the group until she steps aside, revealing a small, unassuming woman with a name tag that reads "Coach Morgan." She’s shorter than anyone here—barely over five feet—with wiry arms and a steely glint in her eye.