❝Book 1 in the 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒 series
He 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...
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L U C I A N O
I grip the steering wheel so tightly my fingers go numb. My heart races with frustration as I scan the empty streets for any sign of her. I check every place we've ever been together, my stomach twisting tighter with every empty spot.
The park where she loved feeding the ducks? Desolate. The café with the vintage décor she adored? Closed up. The lake where we talked about everything and nothing? Just water reflecting my frustration. Every place I thought she might be is a dead end. Paris is nowhere to be found.
"Fuck!" I hit the steering wheel in anger.
I know this is my fault, but I shouldn't feel guilty. I keep telling myself it's necessary for her own good, to keep things from spiraling further.
I check my phone again, hoping-praying-for a message or a call, but it's just Richard. I ignore it, my jaw clenched. I can't deal with him right now. Not when Paris is missing, and it's all because of me.
I drive aimlessly, circling back to places we've been together. None of them feel right without her. A sick feeling churns in my gut as I realize how seriously late it is and that she's out there alone, vulnerable and unprotected.
I pull over to the side of the road, rubbing my forehead with my fingers and breathing hard. This isn't how things were supposed to go. I'm not supposed to lose control like this.
"Damn it, Paris." I mutter, running my hand through my hair in frustration.
My chest feels tight just thinking about her out there alone. My mind torments me with all the things that could go wrong. What if something happens to her? What the fuck am I going to tell Richard?
When I pull up to the house again, I'm drained and worried. I'm not used to feeling this helpless, this out of control. My entire life has been about maintaining control-over my feelings, over my actions, over everything. But Paris? She's always been the exception.
I burst through the door, frustrated and out of breath. The house feels suffocatingly quiet and eerily empty without her, and I hate it. Every part of me aches to go back out and keep searching, but where? I've already checked everywhere.
I hate how silent everything is. I drop my keys on the table and pace the room, rubbing my face with my hands. I'm mad. Furious, actually. But it isn't at Paris. It's at myself.
This wasn't how it was supposed to go. None of it. I spent years keeping everything tightly locked away, hiding my feelings behind a wall of control. But now, it's all come crashing down.
"Damn it." I mutter, running a hand roughly through my hair as I turn and pace the room.
I can still feel the heat of her presence, her anger, her sadness. The look in her eyes when she found out-I hate it. That look will haunt me. I'm not supposed to feel this way. She's my best friend's daughter, for Christ's sake. There are lines I shouldn't cross, lines I don't want to cross.
