"These moans of yours, Zemira, they tend to tamper with my head. They're making my mind a haywire, 𝓜𝓸𝔂 𝓿𝓪𝓶𝓹𝓲𝓻." He whispered into my ear, sending shivers down my spine. His dominance was giving me power to show my dominance.
If he wants to...
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Paramore's 'All I wanted' could never capture the depth of my desire for Zemira in that moment. Nothing could summarise how much I wanted Zemira. How much I wanted to take her right then and there, in front of our fellow family riders. I craved to be with her. The urge to spread her legs, bare her pussy and taste her in every earthly way imaginable consumed me. The desire to devour her completely burned within me. But, the notion of the right place and right time seemed to go against me at every turn. It seemed the universe had other plans.
Zemira was no longer perched on my bike, enticing my entire being to worship her. I shift my gaze towards her, now seated on Genevieve's BMW, with Genevieve herself settled behind Aillard, happy to do so. We were the only two riders without helmets, making it challenging to communicate with the other, but Aillard was smart enough to bring earpieces through which we could all communicate. Above us, the "Welcome to Bari" billboard loomed, water droplets still trickling down the typical green surface. Though the rain had stopped moments ago, the remnants of the thunderstorm lingered in the air. The sky wore a deep shade of blue, almost verging on black, with lighter clouds drifting ominously, visible only by the occasional flash of lightning.
"Do we even know where we're going?" Saggio inquires.
"Just follow her," I responded, gesturing towards Zemira. I had already shown her the map before setting out on this ride. She knows exactly where to lead us in case anything were to happen to me.
"Aye aye, captain," Saggio jests, just as Zemira revs her bike, signalling us to pay attention. She pulls her bike off the stand and we follow suit.
We ride in silence along the A16 highway, the landscape gradually shifting as we draw nearer to Bari. With each passing kilometer, the outline of the city becomes more distinct against the darkened sky. The highway stretches endlessly before us, flanked by fields and clusters of trees cloaked in the veil of night. As we approach, the distant glow of the city lights beckons and air takes on a cooler edge, tinged with the salty tang of the nearby Adriatic Sea.
The subtle signs of our approach to the city became noticeable as the streetlight became more frequent, casting pools of illumination on the asphalt below. We round a bend in the highway, and suddenly, there it is: Bari, sprawling before us with lights and shadows stretching to the horizon.
Whispers of untold stories flow in the night air of Bari. The closely knit houses are adorned with the warm glow of lanterns and the occasional flicker of candlelight peeking through wooden shutters. Narrow streets wind like labyrinthine pathways, mixed with the scent of freshly baked bread mingles with the salty tang of the sea. The absence of traffic is a blessing, the cobblestone streets, worn smooth by the footsteps of thousands of passersby. Everything seemed too familiar.
The fact that our abducted parents were brought to Bari tells me that the Albanian mafia knew that Bari has always been more than just a city to me. I remember the sensation of cobblestones beneath my tiny feet, the sound of church bells ringing out across the piazza, and the scent of freshly baked focaccia drifting from bustling bakeries. Bari was my playground, my classroom, and my sanctuary all rolled into one. Every corner, whether it was a hidden courtyard adorned with vibrant bougainvillea or a gelateria serving scoops of creamy gelato, was my home. Bari was my home and Reina knew that very well.
