Please Me Daddy (Gracie) novel Chapter 127

I was fucked

Apollo

The faint rustle of paper was the only sound in the room as I flipped through the document on my desk, page after page of useless fragments. Numbers, dates, reports, none of it giving me what I actually needed.

Across from me, Chase cleared his throat carefully, his voice steady but edged with nerves. “The IP address was traced straight to this house, sir,” he said. “But there’s no other information on the person who made the call The owner of the house is an old woman. She said a man wearing a mask came to her door asking if he could make a call. Afterward, he left. She doesn’t know who he is and couldn’t identify him since she never saw his face.”

I didn’t respond.

I kept my eyes on the document, scanning the last few lines though I’d already memorized every word. My fingers turned the next page. The silence in the office stretched, heavy enough that I could feel both men’s discomfort radiating from the other side of the desk.

From the corner of my eye, I caught Chase glancing at Austin, who was seated beside him. Austin shook his head subtly, a silent warning to stay quiet.

When I finally finished reading, I set the file down and looked up. “I see.” My tone was calm. “Is there anything else?”

Chase’s throat bobbed as he swallowed. “N–no, sir. That’s all.”

I nodded. “You two may go.”

“Sir-” Chase began, but Austin rose to his feet, cutting him off with a slight bow.

“Yes, sir. We’ll be nearby if you need us.”

Chase scrambled to his feet after him, echoing the same words before following Austin out. The door clicked shut behind them, leaving the room in silence again.

I leaned back in my chair, letting out a quiet breath. My fingers drummed against the desk in a slow, steady rhythm as I glanced at the clock on the wall.

Nine p.m.

It was already late.

It had been six days since I’d left the country, six days of chasing shadows, following crumbs that led nowhere. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d actually rested. Every night blurred into the next, a loop of reports, dead ends, and unanswered questions.

Six days of playing cat and mouse with a psychopath who seemed to enjoy staying just one step ahead of me.

The reason I came here was because of a picture, one that had sounded almost ridiculous at first. The parents of that girl had been murdered. When my team examined the scene, they found a photograph clutched in the husband’s hand.

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twas fucked

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It was a family photo, mother, father, and daughter smiling in front of the Eiffel Tower. But half of it had been deliberately torn away.

It wasn’t just a keepsake. It was a message. Whoever did it wanted me to see it. If they’d wanted to hide it, they could’ve taken it entirely. The missing half likely showed the face of the one pulling the strings.

That’s why I came to France. The Eiffel Tower was here. The picture was taken here. The person behind all this wasn’t just taunting me, they were leading me straight to them.

I sighed, pressing my thumb against the bridge of my nose. My temples throbbed. I was tired, mentally, physically, but most of all, I was stressed.

And then, as if my own mind was determined to torture me, her voice slipped in again.

“Good morning, Mr. Reed.”

The memory of her in the elevator that morning lingered, the way she smiled up at me, her voice light and cheerful, completely unaware that a simple greeting would etch itself into my mind. No matter how many days passed, I couldn’t shake her. She kept resurfacing, again and again, haunting every quiet moment until focusing on anything else felt impossible.

My thoughts betrayed me, drifting to her lips, the soft curve of her smile, the way her body had felt against mine. The small, nervous gestures she made whenever I was near. The catch in her breath. The way she looked at me, like she couldn’t decide whether to run from me or let me consume her whole.

I thought of the pretty sounds she made when I touched her, the way she surrendered completely, as if she were made for me. The dazed look on her face when I drove her to the edge, with my cum all over her face and mouth.

I dragged a hand through my hair and let out another long breath. Damn it. This woman was making things difficult.

When did I become someone who couldn’t go a few days without another person? Without her?

I wanted her badly. If she were here right now, I’d have her take away this tension until I forgot my own name. Even the thought of her gasping beneath me was enough to ease my temper. But that’s what unsettled me most, it wasn’t just about sex.

If it were, I’d have found someone else by now. God knows there were plenty of women willing to warm my bed. But none of them stirred anything in me. Their attempts at seduction irritated me more than they tempted me. Every time I tried to look at another woman, I saw her instead.

My gaze fell to the phone on my desk, silent.

She hadn’t called, or texted.

I didn’t know whether to be relieved or irritated. For someone who had turned my life into a mess of emotions I never asked for, she was far too quiet.

I thought about calling her, just to hear her voice. But I knew the second I did, everything I’d been trying to suppress would come crashing back, and I wasn’t sure I’d be able to stop myself.

I let out a low sigh as I felt myself harden beneath my pants, the ache building before I even realized it. When I looked down, I was already straining against the fabric.

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Vos fucked

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“Fuck,” I muttered, dragging a hand over my face. Even the thought of her was enough to undo me. I was a ruined man.

I didn’t usually give in to this, I wasn’t the type to pleasure myself. I was a forty–year–old man, for Christ’s sake. But the tension in my body was unbearable, and the hunger clawing at me demanded release. Leaning back in the chair, I unbuckled my belt, slid my hand into my pants, and pulled my cock out. The moment my fingers wrapped around it, I exhaled sharply.

It was hard, thick, veins standing out beneath my grip. My hand could barely contain it, but all I could picture was hers. Smaller, softer, trembling a little as she stroked me the way I liked. The image made my jaw tighten, a low groan rumbling in my throat as heat coiled deep inside me.

I was fucked.

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