Nikke Ingrid Novels & Stories

"Hello I'm Ingrid." The tall, hot, brunette sporting a summer body complimented by perky medium-sized breasts flashed a sweet smile at Tequila. Her body clad in short shorts and a bikini top. "I'm Amber." Tequila hid her identity while Ingrid ran a tongue over her own lips as she stared at Teq's, a lump forming in her throat, her eyes taking over the latter's body. "A drink?" "Sure." She cleared her throat playing along.

I look back at Nick now and he clears his throat as he reaches for a plate to dish some food for himself. “And what has he been saying?” I ask Ingrid. “Well he has had so many good things to say about you. He talks about how beautiful and kind you are. How you are soft spoken and pretty stubborn as well.” she laughs. I can not believe my ears. Nickolas says good things about me? This is not possible or Is this all part of some plan of his? He has never said anything good to me since we met and I am finding it totally difficult to believe.

Nyos greeted as he waved one of her hands slightly in greeting. "X2" Frey said as he only raised her right hand. The girl who had arrived was named Ingrid. She did not even dignify the greeting of Nyos and Frey, who were standing next to Zark and in her place, she walked directly towards him. Ingrid's body emitted an intriguing smell. “Didn't you take a bath? Because I'll tell you a secret ... "Nyos began" ... you stink. " And to finish off the sentence "It must be the smell of the undead, since the meat is rotten."

But it was her eyes that caught Jackie’s attention, one sharp blue, the other a ghostly gray, giving her a predatory intensity. “Guten Morgen, Jackie,” she greeted smoothly, her light German accent crisp and demanding. “I am Ingrid. I wanted to welcome you to the Katze Group personally.” Jackie blinked, momentarily stunned. Was the CEO there to greet her? She managed a response. “Hello. I’m honored you came just to welcome me.” Her voice wavered slightly, suspicious. “How did you know I’d be here?”

Ingrid said laughing softly. “I can imagine. She and Charlotte were attached at the hip.” I answered. That was… when she wasn’t attached to me. But I couldn’t say that… because no one knew. Jarvis was calling everyone to get into groups across the field when Ingrid waved and told Lorenzo and I she would see us later. When she’d left I turned to him. “THAT girl is a trainer??” I asked him. “She’s got … some special abilities. Like you.” He told me… but offered no more explanation.

“I’m not disappointed. I’ve missed you.” I shook my head as I continued to look at her. “Get dressed.” “Baby, I can feel your eyes f&&king me from here. Why don’t you come closer and let me make you feel good?” “I said GET DRESSED.” Ingrid stood up. However, instead of putting her clothes on, she walked closer to me. With each step, she puffed out her breasts and swayed her hips in a seductive manner. Once she was close enough, she reached out and touched my chest with one of her manicured nails.

I whispered, dragging a hand down my face. Working in Braga, all the effort, buying a house, having something of my own in Portugal—those were clear goals to achieve. Approving promos, reviewing singles, and being the filter for everything. Signings, meetings… How was I supposed to focus with Delu stuck in my head? I pulled the phone away from my ear and put it on speaker, leaning back in my chair. “Hey,” Ingrid’s voice came through. “Hey. So Nikko’s back in the picture?”

Ingrid stood in the middle of a bunch of camellias, wearing a white dress and her brown hair flowing down her back beautifully. Everything about Ingrid is soft, pure, and brings peace. Sentences that ejected from her lips are always pleasant to hear, sound soothing and comforting. Young Nicholas moved, took a step toward his mother, but the woman he loved was having an argument with a man with a loud voice. Nicholas watched them from where he stood and recognized the man as his father. "Don't, honey, let him be free with his world," Ingrid said urgently. "You don't have to force him to take shooting lessons. He's still a child and needs to grow up like any normal kid."

She is standing next to a tall guy who looked like a tea lover, attractive, English and young, but a pussy of a man, and weak enough seeing as I can easily break his neck with one simple twist. Ingrid is so close to him, pressed up tight, but I know he hasn't lay a single dirty hand on her. Maybe not in any way that counted. She is staring up at him, then the crowd, gazing at the bunch of men losers seated here like they have a stupid gathering today. Hold up. Yes, that's my bambina; Ingrid La Rosa, but she looks . . . different. Especially with her holding that glass of whatever that is. She's confident. She's tipsy. Is she drunk?

Niko As I survey the room, I notice three distinct doors, each providing access in and out of this space. The first door, positioned at the back, swings open to reveal a cramped area filled with storage cupboards. Among the clutter, I spot an elderly woman nestled among the shadows, her presence almost hidden. She exudes an air of gentle vulnerability, with silver strands framing her soft, weathered face. Though her age marks her features, she radiates a sense of inherent harmlessness, as if shaped by years of quiet resilience.