Chapter 17
ARCHIE
Iwoke up before my brain caught up with my body.
That happened sometimes. Usually it came with that sharp, immediate inventory. What time is it, what’s wrong, what did I forget.
This wasn’t that.
This was… warm.
Not surface-level warm. Not just blankets and body heat. It sat deeper than that, pressed into my spine and shoulders like something had been holding me there all night and hadn’t quite let go yet.
The sheets were softer than anything I owned—which, honestly, wasn’t a high bar.
I was a “grab whatever’s cheapest and hope for the best” kind of sleeper.
These? My hand dragged over them and didn’t catch on a single thread, just slid smoothly like the fabric had its life together in all the ways I didn’t.
Cheek rubbing against the pillow, I buried my face in the silky pillowcase and inhaled.
Daddy.
His scent was there in the fabric, worn down into it, settled deep enough that it didn’t fade when he left. That same dark, steady note I’d been circling since the moment I stepped into his office, but closer now, stripped of distance and restraint.
Mine.
It wasn’t just a scent. It was presence, pressing in around me, settling under my ribs.
My body stretched on its own, arms reaching overhead, legs extending as something slow and satisfied worked through my muscles. The sheets shifted under me, the mattress dipping in slightly as I moved—and that’s when I felt the space beside me.
I turned my head, then my hand followed, sliding across the bed until my palm pressed into the lingering heat Henry had left behind.
Fingers wide, I pressed down as if I could hold it in place.
The warmth gave under my touch, not disappearing or fading, just there—quiet proof that I hadn’t imagined any of it.
Something in my chest tightened, then pulled.
Longing.
I wanted him.
Not in the careful, overthought way I usually approached things. This was a simple, undeniable pull toward him that had nothing to do with logic and everything to do with where my heart had already decided it belonged.
I let out a breath and rolled onto my side, pushing myself upright. The sheet slipped down my torso as I sat there for a second, letting the room come back into focus around me.
My glasses rested on the nightstand.
I reached for them, sliding them on, and the world sharpened all at once—slotting into place in a way that made everything feel more real than it had a second ago.
The bed was king-sized—dark wood, solid, the kind of frame that didn’t shift or creak no matter what you did to it. Of course it was. This was Henry fucking Rothwell. There was more than enough space for distance.
I’d fall asleep with my face buried under his chin anyway.
Muted gray walls were warmed by the morning light pouring in through tall windows that stretched nearly to the ceiling. The curtains were pulled halfway open, sunlight cutting across the floor in long, clean lines that made the space feel bigger without losing any of its weight.
Books were everywhere.
Some stacked near the wall, others spread across a chair by the window, one left open where he’d stopped reading, pages slightly bent as if he meant to come back to it.
Nothing about the room felt untouchable.
It felt like him.
And I was sitting in the middle of it—in his bed with his heat still lingering in the space beside me.
I sat there for one more second, then swung my legs over the side of the bed. A quiet, involuntary hum slipped out of me as my toes pressed into the carpet, testing it, dragging slightly just to feel it again.
The room shifted with me as I stood, my gaze moving without any real plan, catching on things as I—oh.
Crushed on the floor near the bed, dark fabric twisted in on itself like it had been pulled off without much thought.
His shirt
I didn’t overanalyze or do the thing where I stood there and made it weird.
I bent, grabbed it, and tugged it over my head in one smooth motion.
The fabric settled around me, warm where my skin still held heat and cooler everywhere else. It fell low and swallowed my frame in a way that made it obvious it didn’t belong to me.
I shoved my glasses higher up my nose and turned toward the door, stepping out into the hallway without looking back.
The house opened up in front of me, morning light stretching through it.
I moved slowly at first, bare feet dragging against the floor, attention snagging on details I hadn’t noticed the night before.
And then—
Coffee.
A small grin pulled at my mouth as I followed the smell, taking the stairs one by one.
The kitchen came into view as I rounded the corner. Henry was there, leaning back against the marble counter, one hand braced behind him while the other was wrapped around a mug of coffee.
Shirtless in some low riding sweats, the sight was just enough to make my brain stall for a second before catching up.
His hair was a mess, and I had the sudden, disorienting thought that I’d never seen him like that anywhere else.
Only with me.
There was something in him that didn’t stay buried when I was around. Standing there looking at him, I felt it.
And yeah.
I liked it.
His eyes found mine over the rim of the mug, the corner of his mouth curling upward into a smile that had my thighs pressing together.
Something in his gaze grew hungry, throat working as he took me in—standing there barefoot in his kitchen, his clothes covering my body.
In that moment, I felt every bit like a Rabbit.
Not soft.
Not harmless.
Just something smaller caught in the face of something bigger, steadier, and patient enough not to rush.
Prey to a man who didn’t need to chase.
“Put that down.” I cleared my throat. “Your coffee cup.”
His brows rose in question, but he obeyed, setting it carefully on the countertop behind him. There was a drop of coffee lingering on his lip, and I fucking moaned when he licked it up.
“Okay, Rabbit. Now, what?”
“Catch me,” I breathed, and his grin grew salacious.
I took off toward him, crossing the kitchen in a few quick strides and pushing off the floor at the last second, launching myself straight at him.
He caught me as though it was instinct, fitting me against his body in a spot he chiseled to fit my form.
One arm bracing my back, the other hooked under my ass as he hefted me up his body, coaxing my legs around his waist.
I dropped my arms on top of his shoulders, toying with the errant hairs sticking up around his ears. “Good morning, Professor.”
Head tilted, his mouth brushed close to my temple, breath against my skin as he took me in up close. “Morning, Rabbit.”
My fingers stilled in his hair for half a second before I dragged them through it instead, smoothing nothing down, making it worse on purpose.
“You look good like this,” I murmured.
“Like what?”
“Out of control.”
Something flickered in his expression at that—quick, sharp, and gone just as fast.
“You like that?” he asked, voice low.
“Mm.” I nodded.
His mouth curved again. “Good.”
That answer was so deeply him I almost laughed.
He turned with me still wrapped around him, one smooth motion that carried us across the kitchen before he set me down on the island. His hands lifted, framing my face, holding me there just long enough for me to feel it—his focus, all of it narrowed in on me like nothing else existed.
Damn.
Mouth against mine, he hummed, nipping at my bottom lip once before pulling me into a kiss. Desire made my toes curl.
Thumb and forefinger on my chin, he tilted my head back and forth, kissing me from each angle. Around him, my arms tightened, fingers clawing at the muscle in his upper back.
A whimper sounded in my throat, my pulse hammering beneath his grip. I pressed closer, wiggling until my ass was at the very edge of the counter, and rocked against him.
He growled into my mouth, kissing me until my lungs were nearly empty. Tearing away, I dropped my face into the side of his neck, gasping for breath even as I sucked and nibbled at the skin along his collarbone.
Hips thrusting, I fumbled for the waistband of his sweatpants. He grabbed my hair and yanked my head back, staring down at me with hazy, lust-filled eyes.
“Fuck, you’re perfect.” He moaned. “Look at my baby, cheeks flushed and glasses crooked. All fucked out from a kiss.”
He licked over my lips, pulling away from me long enough to pull his shirt off my body. Hand on my shoulder, he pushed until I was flat on my back, the counter cool against my flushed skin. My stiff cock jutted toward him, angry and red.
“Poor baby,” he crooned, swiping his tongue up the underside and then swallowing me down.
“Ohmyholyshitgod.”
He chuckled, the vibration making my stomach muscles contract. The sudden urge to thrust into his throat threatened to burn me alive. My hand slapped the counter, back arching as all the cords in my throat seized.
Daddy made a low, humming sound, pulling off my cock to nuzzle his nose against my balls. He nipped at the skin there, sinking his teeth into the soft skin of my inner thighs. Palms on my ass, he spread me open and spit on my hole. It clenched, desperate to have any piece of him.
“Daddy.” My thighs quaked. “Please.”
“Shhh.” He soothed, even as he dipped his head lower, dragging his tongue in circles around my rim. “Fuck, you taste good.”
One finger breached me, pumping at a fucking glacial pace. “You’re still open, baby. Still swollen from my cock. Do you ache, sweetheart?”
“Yes.”
He stilled, and I felt the retreat before it happened. Surging upward, I caught his lips. “Not because I’m sore. Because I’m empty.”
“Fuck.” He cursed.
Air punched from my chest when he yanked me upright, planting my feet on the ground. With a hand between my shoulder blades, he pushed until my chest and cheek were against the counter.
“Spread your legs, baby.”
He kicked my feet wide, pressing kisses along the divot of my spine as he pushed two fingers inside me. My cock dripped with pre-cum, thighs trembling as I thrust back against him.
“More, Daddy, please.”
“The lube is upstairs.”
“I don’t care,” I panted. “I want to feel you every time I breathe today, Henry. Please.”
“Goddamnit.”
Curling his fingers inside me, he brushed against my prostate. My body convulsed in a full shudder, the pleasure not enough and too much all at once.
Taking my cock in his hand, he pumped in time with the thrust of his fingers. My jaw fell slack, and I wanted to beg him to fuck me, but every word I seemed to know a few minutes ago left my mind.
An overwhelming rush of ecstasy robbed me of my ability to think.
To breathe.
I erupted inside his hand, gasping for air.
“Good boy,” he muttered. “Good fucking boy.”
And then I felt it… the hot rush of his seed spilling out across my hole as his groan echoed through the kitchen. My cock twitched, more come dribbling from the tip.
A low, satisfied sound rumbled in his chest, and he dragged his knuckle along the length of my thigh, scooping up his come and pushing it inside me.
“There you go, baby. Now you can be full of me all day.”
Ohmygod.
“You—you distracted me with your sinful fingers. I wanted your cock.”
He brushed my hair off my temples. “Are you complaining?”
“No,” I burst out, and he laughed.
Who the hell complained about orgasms? I was going to need an hour and some carbs before I remembered how to spell my name.
“Baby, keeping you safe is non-negotiable for me. If you want my cock inside you, I’ll stuff you full of lube, and you can sit on it all damn day.”
Christ.
“Someone likes that idea.” He teased, kissing along the back of my neck before helping me to stand. “You want to be my cock warmer, sweetheart?”
Fuck yes, I did.
“I can’t just spend all of a Mon—”
Oh.
Oh shit.
My head snapped back just enough to look at him, then past him, to the clock on the stove.
8:45 AM.
“Holy fuck.” I sucked in a breath, pushing off away from him. “I have class. I have—where are my clothes? Where are my shoes?”
I looked around like they might magically appear draped over one of his stupidly perfect chairs, heart kicking up fast now, that warm, heavy feeling from before snapping into something sharper.
You have come running down your thighs.
“Settle, baby. We’re not going in today.”
“You can’t just—no.” I pointed at him, still half breathless. “I can’t miss class. Do you know how smart those professors are? If I’m not locked in, I’ll fucking fail.”
Henry stepped in before I could spin any further, his hand coming up to cup my face, steadying me in place.
“Breathe.”
And then he kissed me.
Just firm enough to interrupt the spiral, his mouth closing over mine and holding there until the frantic edge in my chest started to settle.
When he pulled back, his forehead stayed close to mine.
“It’s nothing you can’t come back from,” he said quietly. “I’ll help you, Rabbit. You’re not going in today. Yesterday was tough for you.”
“I have a lot of tough days, Henry.”
“No.”
My hands found my hips. “You don’t get to boss me just because you’re older and I let you stick it in me.”
He threw his head back and laughed. “Baby, yes, it fucking does, and I’m not bossing you. I’m taking care of you.”
I huffed out a breath, frustration still buzzing under my skin. “That sounds suspiciously similar.”
“You’re not going to fall behind in one day, Rabbit. And if you do, I’ll make sure you catch up.”
The grip I had on my hips tightened, my brain trying to argue while my body was already starting to settle again under his hand.
“You’re not going to let me leave, are you?”
His mouth curved faintly. “Not a chance. Now go take a shower while I make you pancakes.”
Ooooo. Pancakes.