1. Luca
Chapter one
Luca
Wednesday, July 1, 2026
“ O h fuck, Luca,” Veronica shouts, her perky tits bouncing as she rides my cock.
I smirk up at her, reaching up to toy with her nipples. “You look so hot riding me like such a good girl.”
“You know what they say,” she pants out. “Save a horse, ride a goalie.”
I chuckle, tweaking her nipples and tugging on the sensitive buds as I pump my hips upward into her. Trailing one hand down her abdomen, I slip my thumb through her slick heat, watching as our bodies join repeatedly. I apply pressure to her clit, and her back arches. She clamps down around me, and a tingle travels up the base of my spine, though it’s unfulfilling in the way many of these encounters have been for me recently. Or maybe it’s been longer, and I just haven’t allowed myself to realize it yet.
She throws her head back, letting out a choked moan. “Oh my god!”
“I’ve been called that a time or two.”
She leans forward, giggling slightly, but as she moves her body to slap my chest playfully, my cock shifts angles inside of her and hits her exactly where she wants me. I can tell by the way she throws her head back, eyes wide and lips parted on a low moan.
I grip her hips, helping guide her up and down my shaft. She’s milking my cock, the walls of her pussy spasming around my length. Just as I’m about to blow my load into her, I hear the doorbell ring, followed by a loud banging.
My head snaps in the direction of the noise. “What the fuck?” I grumble, guiding Veronica off my lap. She lies back against my pillows, her hand slipping between her pussy lips, fingers circling her clit.
Her eyes are hooded, and she’s clearly more turned on than I seem to be. What the hell happened to the guy who was totally fulfilled by just getting his dick wet? “Come back and fuck me, baby. You can get whatever’s at the door later.” Her face is flushed, dark curls sticking to her sweat-covered skin.
I’m working to pull on a pair of gray sweats. Looking over at her, I grin, ready to follow through with her suggestion, but whoever’s at the door rings the bell three more times in succession.
I call over my shoulder to Veronica as I head out of the room, “I’ll be right back.”
Padding across the hardwood floors, I unlock the front door. Standing on my porch is a well-dressed businessman, likely in his late forties.
“Mr. De Laurentiis?” he asks, his eyes squinting in the bright summer sun.
“Shouldn’t you know for certain who lives here before you go banging on their door like the police?” I ask, annoyed that he prevented what was going on moments ago.
“Are you not Luca De Laurentiis then?” he questions, a graying brow raised at me in annoyance.
I step out onto the porch, closing the door behind me. “I am, and who are you?” I ask, the inflection in my tone making it clear that I don’t appreciate the interruption.
“I’m Ted Murphy, a social worker for the Philadelphia County Child Protective Services.”
My head rears back, eyes wide in confusion. “What is this about?” I ask, my voice sounding shaky to my own ears.
“Your daughter.”
My what? My heart is suddenly hammering against my ribs and a lightheaded feeling threatens to drag me under.
“She’s been dropped off by the mother at a local hospital. She left her with a birth certificate that states that you are the father.” He tells me this with a straight face as if this isn’t news to anyone. It’s certainly news to me, fucker.
“I’m sorry. Who exactly is this mother who left a child, claiming it’s mine?” My tone is indignant. Is someone setting me up now that I’m playing for a top team in the NHL and making solid cash?
“ She was left by a Ms. Cecily St. James.”
My eyes must be the size of saucers. Cici? We broke up a year ago.
“How old is the child?” I rush out.
“Three months.” His tone sounds bored, but I’m anything but.
Fuck.
“You have a couple of options here. You can petition for temporary custody of the child at court tomorrow morning as this specific type of court case is only held on Thursdays, and we’d really like to place her sooner rather than later, or—”
I cut him off. “How do we find out if she’s really mine?”
His brows are pinched, assessing me for a moment before he says, “You’d do a paternity test to be sure she’s yours. Once the results are confirmed, you’ll appear in court for the judge to sign off on the temporary placement after I inspect the home to ensure it’s safe and you have everything necessary to properly care for her. If you move quickly, we can have this done by Friday.”
Friday! That’s two days away.
“What happens after that? You’re saying the placement is temporary. What does that mean?” My mind is reeling as I fight to keep up with his words and their implications.
“What the mother did was drop the child off at one of our compassionate care drops. What that means is that if a parent is feeling overwhelmed and unable to care for a child under the age of six months, they can drop them off and be able to petition for their parental rights back, so long as they come forward within three months. You will need to get an attorney and take the mother to court for full parental rights, but if she really didn’t want the child, then this should hopefully only entail a lot of paperwork on your lawyer’s end.”
I nod in a daze. “I’ll do it. When can I do the paternity test?”
“As soon as possible. I’ll get you set with all the information. Mind if I come in?”