Luci Fer Novels & Stories

He was looking at me now with a specific expression, the one people wore when they had said something they were hoping landed. "Say that again," I said. Feretti swallowed. "I said I know things. About Rico Gaines and where he's been moving. I've seen him twice in the last month and I kept quiet about it because I didn't think it was my business but if it helps my situation…" I had his collar before I finished processing the sentence. Luca pushed off the wall. Feretti's eyes went very wide. "I'm telling the truth! I've seen him! He uses a place off Meridian, a storage unit, he's there every Tuesday…"

The thong was so drenched that the fabric clung to the plump lips of her pussy, clearly outlining the wet slit. The firefighters burst into the hallway within seconds, heavy boots pounding the floor. In the middle of the group was Lucas Ferreira: 1.90m of pure walking testosterone, a body sculpted by years of gym and hard work. His tight uniform clung to his broad chest and muscular arms covered in bulging veins and dark tribal tattoos. Stubble shadowed his square jaw, and his brown eyes had a predatory look — the kind of man who had already fucked many women against the wall until they cried from coming so hard.

And since she doesn’t have an Alex, she’ll never realize. “Need anything from me?” Lucien asks while I slip into the network, voice pitched low. I nod between keystrokes. “Set up the Ubertooth and hand me the LAN Turtle.” I snort at his wide-eyed I-didn’t-know-the-essay-was-due-today-and-my-dog-ate-it-anyway expression. “I was kidding. Just keep guard.” “Thank fuck.” His relief could jump-start a truck’s battery. “How long do you need?”