In the charming town of Edinburg, Dulce runs her late mother's bakery. Her life changes when she agrees to a house exchange with a famous couple in Paris. Upon arrival, she is startled to find not one but two men (twins) sharing the house.
Drawn int...
(A/N: I have to warn you guys that this chapter contains descriptive sexual content. If you don't like reading sexual content, be careful.)
That night, Dulce experienced the most peculiar dream, where lost letters flied randomly and cakes, shaped like puzzles, refused to fit their designated places. In the middle of this fantasy, Eliza's features floated into her consciousness, causing Dulce to make a mental note to write a letter as soon as possible.
Once awake, Dulce's eyes adjusted to the morning's bright light, revealing Pierre sitting on one of the pink sofas near the foot of her bed. He was concentrated in a little white book titled "Les Enfants Terribles."
"Good morning?" She said, not hiding her surprise at his unexpected presence.
Had he been there all night?
"I just got here. Don't be scared." He replied, as though he had guessed her thoughts. She smiled widely and waved him closer by flicking her hand.
Pierre closed his book and his eyebrows arched, in suspicion at her command. He stood slowly, while his eyes scanned the room as though suspecting some strange motive.
"What do you want?" He asked, walking towards her until he stood at the bed's edge. Dulce watched as he crawled onto the bed and seated himself by her thighs, facing her.
She sat up, grabbed his hands and placed them gently on her thighs with a bit of a squeeze. He inhaled a deep breath, which he never seemed to exhale.
Though Dulce was tempted to stop, his little reactions offered her a perverse sense of pleasure. Instead of stopping, she leaned in, with her head inclining towards his and her eyes fixed on his lips.
"Didn't you say you wanted to accompany me?" She asked, while one hand slid behind his head. He remained silent, his breath still held.
"Then keep me company." She said, responding to her own question. With that, she pressed her lips softly against his, waiting his reciprocation. Yet he remained still. Instead, he took her hand, which was on his thigh, and gently moved it aside, freeing himself. He got up and walked towards the door.
"I'll wait for you outside. Get ready."
As he made his way out, Dulce felt a rush of shame, which left her silent, as she stared down at the now sickening pink floor.
By the time she was ready, it was already nine in the morning. She glanced at the kitchen clock, grabbed a quick snack from the fridge, and hurried out the door. She was feeling confident in her chosen outfit, which was stereotypically French. She called Pierre's name with an obvious French accent, or tried to, at least . Once she saw Pierre wasn't alone, she pressed her lips together in, yet again, shame.
Fleur was there.
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