❝He suddenly spreads my folds wide, his hungry mouth latching onto my clit, sucking hard and licking expertly. My hips move on their own, riding his face as soft whimpers escape me.
Just when I think I can't take any more, he shoves three fingers i...
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P A R I S
I wake up feeling like a wreck—head pounding, body sore, and no clear memory of last night. My room feels off, and I squint at the sunlight streaming through the curtains. I'm still in yesterday's clothes, all wrinkled and uncomfortable, and tangled up in my blankets. As my brain starts to clear, I cringe remembering the wild dream I had.
In it, Luciano and I were going at it—hot, heavy makeout sessions with his hands everywhere, playing with my clit and pussy, and teasing me until I came hard over and over again. It was hella intense, and honestly, not the first time I've had such an erotically wild dream about him, but fuck, that one felt so real.
I bite my lip, trying to shake off the vivid images, but the pulsing ache of my clit says otherwise. I groan and roll around in bed, hoping the throb in my head will ease up soon. At least I don't have school today—gives me a good excuse to stay in bed and recover.
As I shift in bed, something catches my eye on the nightstand. I spot a covered glass of water and a small plate with pills, alongside a note that reads: "For your hangover."
I squint at the note and sit up to check it out. My cheeks flush when I recognize Luciano's loopy handwriting. Damn, can this man possibly be any more perfect? He's such a keeper. I take the pills and water, feeling a flutter of butterflies in my stomach.
I check the clock and see it's only 7 am. I smile and get up, feeling all warm and fuzzy inside. After a quick shower and brushing my teeth, I slip into my coziest clothes. I'm already feeling better. Luciano really knows how to take care of me, and I'm just loving him even more for it.
As I head to the kitchen and start making breakfast, a familiar dark, musky, intoxicating scent fills the air, making me smile. I know Luciano will want to talk about last night, so I try to distract him.
"Morning Luciano, want some coffee?" I ask, turning around with a cheeky grin and he gives me a reproachful look.
"No, thanks."
I tilt my head, a teasing smile on my lips.
"How about some breakfast, then?"
"Not hungry."
I squeeze my thighs together, fondly watching him as he adjusts his suit jacket and shirt. Damn. He looks so effortlessly sexy and handsome—it's hard to keep my focus. But before I can fully enjoy the view, he switches to a serious tone, and I brace myself for his lecture.
"Care to explain why you came home so late and drunk last night?" He asks, eyes dark and jaw tight, and I smile sheepishly.
"It was just a little mistake. I didn't mean to—"
"You're grounded for a week." Luciano interrupts, and I pout, feeling a thrilling rebellious spark.
"Seriously? It was just a small mistake. You're overreacting! I'm 18, you can't ground me. You're not even my dad."
