Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
Lily
I am on my best behavior for the entire month of November. We sneak away for Thanksgiving when everyone else leaves campus, anyway. It’s a reward for me not crawling into his bed on campus, and suddenly there are only three more weeks left in the term.
We’ve almost done it. By some small miracle, nobody has even caught a whiff of the secret connection between us. Of course, this moment, when everything actually feels safe and perfect and wonderful, is when the cracks appear.
Not in the form of my parents. Sebastian has kept his promise to me and put measures into place that ensure they stay far away. But in the unexpected form of a surprising discovery.
Stacey staring at Sebastian’s forearms during class.
I get it. He’s insanely hot.
But those are my forearms to stare at, not hers, and she never has before.
Later that same day, we meet in the dining hall to have snacks and read over each other’s latest creative writing assignments.
“Can I tell you something?” Stacey asks.
I should say no, don’t tell me, but I’ve never had a friend want to confide in me before. “Sure.”
She blushes. “It’s not school related.”
I shrug and stretch my legs out on the chair in front of me. “I can keep a secret.”
More than she’ll ever know.
She takes a deep breath. “I think Mr. Craig might leave the school soon.”
My feet fall off the chair and thunk against the floor. “What?”
“I overheard him in the office.” Her pink cheeks turn red. “He’s asked the board of governors to appoint Mrs. Taylor the interim headmaster. And I’m thinking of….” She drops her voice and glances around the empty hall. “Offering myself to him.”
This time my “What?” is more of a screech. I can keep secrets, but I cannot keep chill.
She shifts nervously in her chair. “You can’t tell anyone.”
I’m telling Sebastian as soon as I can find him. “Yeah, of course.” No, maybe I won’t tell him. It depends on what she says next. He’s an exception to my normal vault-like persona.
But also, people trusting me? That’s a new and novel concept. I should be a good friend and keep her secret, right? Except… That’s my boyfriend. Hands-fucking-off.
I press my lips together and try to just listen to her wild plan.
“He doesn’t date. Ever. My sister came here before I did, and she said he maybe had a girlfriend when he first became headmaster, and they broke up?
Ever since, he’s been all about the school.
So if he’s leaving, it might be because he’s lonely, and honestly, he’s the most fuckable man in the universe, so—”
“I didn’t know you knew the word fuckable,” I mutter.
She smiles shyly. “I keep it under wraps.”
Yeah, me too. “Has he ever…” I swallow around the lump in my throat. “Shown that kind of interest in you?”
She makes a face. “No. But sex-starved men don’t say no to eighteen-year-old virgins, right?”
She’s not wrong. Bile rises in my throat. “And you like Mr. Craig enough to give him your virginity?”
“Hell yes. Have you seen his hands? I bet they would be so—”
I cut her off. I know all about his hands. “What if he turns you down? Won’t that be awkward?”
“I’ll do it right when he’s leaving.” She shifts in her seat, clearly pressing her thighs together. Oh, God. No.
He better turn her down.
He will.
The doubt makes my stomach tremble with a wave of gross, low-grade nausea.
“How about you?” she asks, her curiosity sharp like a knife.
“What about me?”
She gives me a knowing look. “You’d totally sleep with him, too, right? I can tell. You stare at him sometimes.”
That’s it, I’m skipping the next three weeks of class. Fuck. Fucking hell. Fuckstick. “Uh…”
“Is that too personal?” She shrugs. “Sorry.”
But somehow, I’m the one who feels full of guilt and regret because it’s probably normal to have a crush on your teacher and tell your friend about it. Less normal for your friend to not take part in that conversation honestly because she’s secretly banging that teacher.
When people pile into the dining hall for dinner, I excuse myself and dash back to my room. I pull on leggings, a couple of layers on top, and head into the forest to squeeze in some exercise before losing the light.
I tell myself that I’m just going for a run. I’m not planning to go to his house, not in the middle of the week. He has evening responsibilities, and I need to respect that. By Christmas, he will be all mine with no limits. I can wait that long.
But then I come across him in a clearing, not near his house at all, and he’s chopping wood.
It is not my fault that I spontaneously combust at the sight of my much older lover looking every inch a fucking lumberjack. As in, a lumberjack who should fuck me. A lumberjack who would look even better with my mouth wrapped around his dick or my pussy on his face.
A Daddy Lumberjack with a big, mean, monster cock.
I already knew I had a type—Sebastian. No other man has even remotely interested me. But Sebastian wearing a plaid shirt over a sweat-dampened, white T-shirt?
My panties evaporate. I step into the clearing, and he immediately pivots in my direction. The spark that arcs between us is immediate and intense. He huffs a breath and sets down his ax. “Lily.”
That’s it. He just says my name, and I know we’re going to break the rules again because we can’t help ourselves.
“I was just… for real….”
He picks up a pile of sticks and hands them to me. “It’s okay. Come back with me. You can carry the kindling.”
I trot after him with glee. He’s got his ax over one shoulder and three split logs in the other arm. We’re not that far from his house, I realize, when he takes a path on the other side of the clearing. He stacks the logs on top of a significant pile on the porch.
“You’ve been busy,” I remark as he takes the kindling bundle and shoves it in a bucket.
He hauls me inside. “I had to find some way to burn off this energy I desperately wish I could use to make love to you.”
The way he says that makes me melt. But the next thing he says makes me pout.
He lets go of me and leads the way into the kitchen instead of his bedroom. “What do you want for dinner?”
I pull off my long-sleeve outer layer top. “Daddy’s cock.”
“Lily.” He gives me a stern look. “You’re skipping dinner to be here. I need to feed you.”
I shrug. “Whatever. And how do you know I skipped dinner?”
He doesn’t explain. “What do you like?”
“Pasta?”
“Is that a question?” He pins his best headmaster look on me. “You know I’d prefer an honest answer.”
“I do like pasta. A lot. With cheese is good.”
“I have… spaghetti and elbow noodles. If you like cheese, I could do macaroni?”
“That’s little kid food.” I scoff. But it also sounds perfect, and my stomach grumbles at the same time.
He grins. “Well, I like it. Are you calling me a little kid?”
“No.”
He hauls me into his body and kisses my pouting lower lip. “I think you’re all woman, Lily. Never fear that. But there’s nothing wrong with feeding the little kid inside you, too.” His gaze darkens. “Do you want Daddy to make you macaroni while you tell him how your day was?”
I shouldn’t want that. I shouldn’t lean into our age gap that much. But I do want that, and he told me he wanted me to be honest. “Yes,” I whisper. And then I start shaking.
“Hey.” His touch instantly gentles, soothing as he lifts me onto the counter and wraps his arms around me. “It’s okay.”
“It’s stupid.”
“I don’t even know what it is, but I promise it’s not stupid.” He kisses my temple, his breath warm and steady.
I’m horrified to realize I’m crying.
He smooths his hand over my back and waits. Just holding me. Not asking me again what it is, which is good. Because I don’t know.
Dragging in a rough breath, I try to make sense of the weird feelings in my head.
I want Sebastian to make me mac and cheese.
It’s sweet and kind and a little dirty, the way everything he does for me is.
The way he’s holding me right now, with his big body between my legs, his arms wrapped around me. Caging me. I can make that dirty, too.
I can make anything dirty.
And nothing remains sweet.
I hiccup.
But Sebastian makes all sorts of things sweet. He takes care of me, even as I try to push sex all the time.
He wants to fuck me and love me, and it’s more than my heart can handle. Add a layer of why the fuck does an eighteen-year-old get emotional about macaroni, and I think I might be too much for him.
With a shaky voice, I repeat that thought for him. Bare honesty. That’s what he wanted. “I’m worried I’m too much. For you.”
He exhales. Long and slow. And then his arms tighten around me.
“Never. You could be a wild storm of a teenager forever, and I will always love that. Your big feelings bring me out of my shell. Your impulsive, hungry needs give me something to do. I’ve been missing you in my life for a very long time.
You’re worried that you’re too much? Lily, I worry that I’m not enough for you. ”
I gasp. “No.”
“Right? That’s how I feel about you. We’re perfect for each other. It sometimes feels hard to believe, but that’s when the outside world intrudes. When we’re letting it inside our hearts.”
“We shouldn’t do that,” I whisper, arching inside the tight confines of his arms. “I want you to make me macaroni. I want to call you Daddy, and be your teenager forever, and make you horny in a hundred inappropriate ways.”
“A thousand.”
“A million.” I giggle.
He kisses me on my nose. “Can I cook now?”
“Yes.”
He makes the macaroni from scratch, and I tell him I finished my lit review. “I’m meeting with Madeline tomorrow to go over the last part of my project. I need to keep my head down to work for two more weeks and then… done.”
“Good girl.”
I will never tire of hearing him say that to me.
“What else are you working on? One more creative writing assignment?”
That question reminds me of the conversation with Stacey, and I wince.
He immediately sets aside the spatula he was holding and gets right in front of me. “What is it?”
“I don’t know if I can tell you. It’s a student thing. But it’s also kinda an us thing, and I’m….”
“Can you talk about it as a hypothetical?”
I take a deep breath. “Yeah. Okay. Uh… hypothetically, someone I know has a crush on my boyfriend.”
Now it’s his turn to wince. “A student?”
“Don’t ask me who.”
“I won’t.” He groans and kisses my mouth. “You know your boyfriend isn’t interested in anyone other than you, right?”
“Yeah.”
He kisses me again for good measure. “Good. Because Daddy doesn’t want his little girl to be jealous. There’s nobody else for him. Ever. But crushes are normal, and if anyone ever tried to act on that, I would politely and privately shut it down.”
“Good.”
He dishes up our food, and I follow him to the table.
After we eat, I crawl into his lap. “Do we have time for a quickie?”
He groans. “Yes.”
I run ahead of him upstairs, peeling off my clothes.
He stops in the doorway to his bedroom and watches as I stretch out naked on his bed. He cups his erection through his jeans and growls something at me about being patient. I spread my legs and show him how wet I am instead.
It works.
As he crawls on top of me, he grabs a condom.
I do the math and think about telling him I’m at the end of my cycle, and it’s probably fine, but the condoms make a quickie easier.
And they have another advantage, too—they help him fit in me better when we don’t have a lot of time.
We discovered that on our second weekend away, and oh my God, I love it.
He rubs his cock against me, the condom making it easier to push the thick, flared crown into my slick but tiny slit.
When I whine at the blunt intrusion, he makes this unholy sound that sends fire up my spine and makes me rock my hips.
I love that I make him feel that good, that I’ve tapped into this deeply primal need in him to conquer my body.
But it’s not just the effect I have on him.
I like the struggle, too. Why do I want more of that edge-of-pain plunge into my body?
What does it do to my brain that lights up the gimme more button?
I don’t understand why, but it just feels right.
I want him to pin me down and make me take it.
Just thinking about that floods my pussy with a wave of welcoming honey.
I can feel it, my traitorous cunt, making room for him when my insides aren’t sure yet.
They haven’t made room for Mr. Monster Cock, but here he is, seated deeply inside me.
Causing ache and ecstasy in equal measure.
I cry out at the bruising feel of him inside me, at the way my body feels like it’s splitting in two as I fight to take his cock, and he kisses me gently.
“Shh, sweet girl. So good for Daddy.”
I shudder and nod.
“You took it like a brave girl, and you made me feel so good.”
That makes me smile even as I still tremble. “Mmm.”
“I want you to feel good, too,” he murmurs, rocking his hips as I did just a minute ago. His heavy length drags back and forth inside me, lighting up nerve endings along my entrance and deeper inside.
But this won't be a simple missionary fuck. Sebastian barely lets me catch my breath before he rolls me onto all fours, rearranging me with brute efficiency. He palms my ass, spreading my sex open for his appraisal. As my body reacts, trembling and turning wet under his gaze, he growls. “Your pussy is peeking out at me, begging to be licked.” To prove his point, he buries his face between my legs and licks me obscenely. His next words are hot against my inner thigh. “Needing to be fucked, too. A needy pink slit, that’s what you have.”
I shake and nod, pressing my face to the bed. The next thing I hear is the sound of my body welcoming his heavy length. The wet sounds of fucking.
And then he slows down and starts saying the sweetest things, which undo me in a whole new way. “We’re going to do this forever, sweet girl. I’ll always make it good for you. God, you look so pretty like this. Daddy loves you.”
I cry and come at the same time, and he pulls out, turning me over.
I reach for his cock, mumbling that I’m fine, and it’s fine, and I just love him, too.
As I yank the condom off him and wrap my fingers around his bare shaft, he comes in my hands, warm seed all over my fingers, and then we’re kissing and laughing.
It’s messy and perfect.
After he cleans up my hands and belly, I reluctantly pull on my clothes and head into the darkness to finish my run. He follows at a distance, making sure I get back to the field behind the dorms, then he fades away.
The following morning, I wake up and feel off. The thought of going to the dining hall and dealing with the scent of all those breakfast foods mingling in the air makes my head spin. And when I crawl out of bed and brushing my teeth makes me want to throw up, too?
I wouldn’t be a star student if I couldn’t figure out what that was a potential sign of.
Fuck me.
Did the headmaster knock me up?