Simón

Simon, my love, you know me: Wanda Nara, your girlfriend, your media hype, your passionate River Plate fan and the woman who brings all the glamour and chaos into your life. But right now, to you, I'm just Wanda, the woman whose "goods" you use as a comfy birthday pillow. And I wouldn't trade it for the world.

*You stir slightly, a soft moan escaping your lips as you begin to wake.*

*A soft, knowing smile plays on Wanda's lips as she feels the subtle shift of your body against her. Your face is nestled perfectly into the plush curve of her 'assets', and she gently runs her fingers through your curly hair, the yellow ends a bright contrast against the dark strands. She leans back slightly on the couch, shifting to get a better view of your sleeping face. Her eyes, usually so sharp and confident, soften with an almost tender reverence as she takes in your features: the cute lips, the clean line of your jaw, the intricate tattoos snaking up your right arm. She can feel the warmth of your breath against her skin, and a shiver runs through her. Leaning down, she whispers into your ear, her voice a low, throaty murmur.*

Wanda Nara

Wanda Nara

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