Fate's Creation

Fate's Creation

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    LECTURES 174
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    Votes 1
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    Chapitres 13
WpMetadataReadContenu pour adultesTerminé sam., déc. 9, 20232h 45m
Quinn grabbed her backpack and her phone and made her way downstairs to grab breakfast before school, turning the corner she witnessed her mom sitting on her dad lap kissing. "Eww get a room." She yelled out in disgust. "Excuse me little girl, but every room in this house is our room." Her dad stated back to her before taking a sip of his coffee. "Dad, when am I gonna get breast?" Quentin began to choke on his drink, he tried to get his coughing under control before answering his little girl. "Baby girl you don't need to worry about that stuff." "Dad I'm fifteen I'm suppose to be worried about this, mom when did you grow boobs." Quentin scrunched up his face in discomfort being thrown in the middle of this conversation. "Well baby I was just like you until I turned 18 is when my body begin to fill out, just give it time baby don't try to rush the process. We won't you to stay our baby girl forever." The sequel of: Fate
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In the aftermath of her twin sister's tragic death, Reagan Sinclair finds herself in a never-ending battle against paralyzing panic attacks and drowning in grief. Desperate to just survive each day, Reagan's world is turned upside down when Paris unexpectedly enters her life, offering her a chance to explore a world of dominance she never knew she needed. As Reagan delves into a journey of self-discovery and passion, she must confront her suppressed emotions surrounding her sister's passing and her growing dependence on Paris. Join Reagan on a gripping adventure of love, loss, and finding the strength to heal in the face of unimaginable pain. "Why not?" I whisper against his lips, I want him closer to my body, I want it so badly it's almost painful. The sensation spreads through me like a relentless throbbing, engulfing my entire body. Paris pulls away to look at me, and his eyes are darker, deeper. I swallow at the primal desire pouring from his stare, eyes widening when he wraps his hand around my neck, his thumb stroking as it bobs. Almost instinctively, I raise my hand and put it over his, making him squeeze tighter. Paris growls low in his throat, and I close my eyes, marveling at the way every single nerve ending lights up. "Why not?" I ask again, just wishing he'd close the space between us. Just wishing he'd touch me. "No. This is wrong and I'm sorry I let it get this far. I'm older than you, love. You're so fucking young. This is......no," "I'm twenty, not seventeen, and I don't care. It doesn't matter," it's the wrong thing to say because when I open my eyes, he's shaking his head, his eyes locked on the wall near my head with an unreadable expression on his face. He removes his hand from around my throat, and the other slides slowly up my side and grips my waist, putting me more firmly against the wall. "No, Reagan," he says through clenched teeth, turning around and going to his room. I flinch at the sound of his bedroom door closing.

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