Page 86 of Four Times Forever

So, the movies weren't one hundred percent accurate. Before coming to France, I was under the impression that after people came back from viewing the monuments, they walked around topless. They were always clothed doing the picturesque stuff, but side characters would talk about how carefree France was, and how you could walk around and spot a topless person sunbathing, and no one would bat an eye.

I had always fantasized that when I got to France, where no one knew me, I would take my top off too, feel the sun on my breasts. I hadn't seen much sunbathing, but on the privacy of my balcony with the guys out at the gym, I lay back on the lounge chair with my bra off. If they were here, they'd be on top of me already. I grinned at the thought. At least now the sun could seep into my skin and the air could brush against the little hairs on and around my breasts. Okay, how long did they say they would be spending at the gym again?

You could always hop next door, drop in on Matt and Ryan, check to see if they're at least still alive. Oh, they're alive alright. I might have had an ulterior motive, other than sunbathing, laying out on the balcony. I could hear them louder here. One night, I even observed them when they decided to be adventurous. They didn't see me. I didn't want to be seen. While Ethan and Eric were asleep, I pleasured myself to the show.

I'd been waiting to share that with Matt when I saw him next, but I thought he'd forgotten about me. You could always test that theory. If I 'hopped' next door, my pussy might start making bad decisions for me.

Would they really be such bad decisions?

Nibbling on my bottom lip, I picked up the phone and rolled my eyes. I had to turn off the sound of the notifications because they were driving me mad. Eric said it came with the territory, but I almost regretted posting the pictures and video at all. How on earth did one keep up with all these fucking notifications? Look, some of them I didn't mind seeing. Like the kind comments, cheering on polyamory and being happy that their favorite content creators found love. Then there were the nasty comments from fans who still couldn't let go of Eric's previous relationship.

'So, he left a prize to end up with a whore he has to share? Yeah, total downgrade. He wasn't going to find better anyway.'

My cheeks burned and I bit my lip. Eric caught me reading the comments once, took the phone away and made love to me, reassuring me that I was the only one he'd ever wanted and would ever want. He also told me not to read the comments.

Easier said than done.

'I mean, I get it. I wouldn't turn her down either. Bet if she fucked me, she'd only need one cock. My cock.'

I bit down on my lip, then my fingers to keep myself from telling him that if he was the only man on this planet, I would choose to fuck a cactus before I went anywhere near him. And that my men were more than enough. If he ever disrespected them again, I'd skin him alive.

But I scrolled past instead, seeking something else that would rob me of the sweet freedom that came with being topless in fucking Paris. I was living someone's dream come true, and I couldn't help reading the comments. Before I could put the phone away, though, I spotted one that I wouldn't be able to pull my eyes away from, even if I tried.

'Those guys are dangerous. Lily, you're not safe.'

Why did that comment sound so personal? As if it was from someone I knew. There was no picture to identify them and the name was 'username' followed by a bunch of numbers and characters.

How funny would that be if that was your mom, I thought. Not funny at all. Okay, maybe a little funny. But more sad and desperate. Concerning. I should call her. But of course, I must read the hundreds of replies first. Otherwise, how will I get anything done? With an internal groan, I clicked open the replies.

'Wait, isn't that the girl that was kidnapped?'

Woman, not girl. I chose to be anal because what the hell. I'd been doing an okay job at shoving the memory aside and focusing on the exciting things happening in my life. And with that comment, here came the memories flooding my head and trying to drown me.

'She looks like her, for sure. But it can't be. There's no way she'd be posting a video talking about how happy she is to be getting married when just a few weeks ago, she was almost killed.'

Well, excuse me. I didn't know there was a blueprint for recovery.

'No, it's definitely her. Lily Thornbread. Here's the link to the article.'

'You don't think this is a cry for help, do you? What if she's not safe? What if she's not the one posting. Do you think they were involved with her kidnapping?'

'What are you talking about? We all watched the news and saw her being rescued. Besides, Eric and Matt would never do something like that.'

'Oh yeah, 'cause you know them personally, do you?'

'With the way women are nowadays, I wouldn't be surprised if she faked it. Modern women will do anything for attention.'

'You insensitive asshole! She could be reading this. Try putting yourself in someone else's shoes for once, you brainless idiot.'

'Oh, here you go. Oversensitive. You're the one who's brainless. Bet you're one of those 'believe all women' simps.'

'Reported. For harassment.'

I gulped. Actually, I didn't think I liked this 'going public' thing anymore. My stomach turned as my skin tingled with an uncomfortable awareness. Images of my father and that other asshole flashed inside my head like a blinker light. The sun's brightness didn't penetrate my vision. Instead, I was locked inside my head, darkness surrounding me.

That other comment was right. I'm not safe. But not because of my men, but because... My throat closed up and I reached for my pitcher of lemonade. It was a glass one, just like the one Ryan threw at my head—well, at the wall, behind my head.

Beads of sweat gathered on my skin. My hand shook and I ended up spilling some of it outside of the glass. I put the pitcher down a little too hard and brought the glass to my lips, sipping from it like a lifesource.

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