❝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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L U C I A N O
The rain pours hard as I park in the driveway. I grab the cat carrier and the shopping bag from the passenger seat, hurrying to the front door, water splashing under my Ferragamo dress shoes. Paris always gets nostalgic on rainy days, which makes her snack more than usual.
That's why I stopped by the pastry shop to get her favorite treats—doughnuts, croissants, macarons and some ice cream. The rain's only going to get worse over the next few days, and I can already see it dragging her mood down even further.
I'm hoping Cielo can cheer her up since I clearly haven't been able to lately, especially after all the ways I've hurt her. I set the carrier and the bag on the kitchen counter, shaking the rain off my suit and jacket before hanging them up. I tug off my tie and undo the top buttons of my shirt, frowning at how quiet the house is.
"Paris?" I call out, my voice loud enough to be heard.
I wait, listening for any kind of response, but all I hear is the rain hitting the windows. I check the living room, then her bedroom. Nothing. I search through every room, my heart racing as I start to panic.
Where the hell is she?
"Paris!" I shout louder, moving through the kitchen and down the hallway.
Still no sign of her. I run a hand through my hair, panic rising as I imagine the worst. As I pace around, I notice the glass door to the backyard deck is slightly open. I exhale sharply and head outside.
My anxiety eases instantly when I see Paris sitting curled up on the couch in the outdoor living room. Her knees are pulled to her chest, arms wrapped around them, just quietly watching the rain pour over the backyard and pool.
Relief washes over me, but I realize she's out in the cold, wearing just a sweater, shorts, and socks. Her fever only broke two days ago—she can't afford to get sick again. I head back inside, grab a blanket from the couch, and return to her. She only notices me when I wrap the blanket around her.
"What the hell are you doing out here? It's freezing cold." I chide.
She doesn't respond or even look at me. When I see her red eyes, my heart clenches painfully. I clench my fists, frustrated at myself. I sit down beside her, close enough to feel her warmth, close enough to catch her sweet scent—the only thing that seems to soothe me lately.
I rest my arm on the couch behind her and watch the rain fall, feeling useless as ever. As Paris remains lost in the rain, I find myself just watching her. It hits me how much she's changed since I first moved in.
She's a bit finer now—her cheeks are less chubby and her face is less round, which saddens me because I like her chubbier. Her hair is longer now, past her shoulders, with cute bangs framing her face, making her even more breathtaking and adorable.
