Chapter 15
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What the fuck had I done?
As I sat in the hot bath with Lucy in my arms, slowly washing her body as she rested half asleep against me, the regret and recriminations spilled out.
I’d just fucked my ward.
Taken her virginity.
Made her eighteen-year-old pussy come all over me. Just thinking about that made me harden all over again, because I’d clearly turned into a teenager, both with the can-always-go dick, and the apparently undeveloped prefrontal cortex. What else could explain my decisions tonight?
It was my job to care for her. It had always been my job to care for her, and I’d shirked my duties.
And now here we were, me having done the worst possible thing I could think of.
Lucy’s makeup had run down her face, and even though she was tall for a woman, she was so small in my arms. So delicate.
I could hurt her so easily. I’d done a terrible thing, and I didn’t know how to come back from it.
And I didn’t think I wanted to.
My cock thought she was ours. That we’d done the right thing, claiming her this way.
But I’d seen the pain in her eyes when I hadn’t kissed her, and I still couldn’t bring myself to.
It was like by protecting myself from that one intimacy, I could pretend I hadn’t done something horrible.
It was bullshit, I knew, probably even worse, but here we were.
I murmured to her, humming, as I brushed a soapy washcloth over her chest, her arms, her tits, her stomach. When I worked it down toward her pussy, she shifted in my arms.
“Too sensitive,” she complained.
“Too bad,” I responded, gently cleaning her off, as much as I wanted to let my claim—both blood and cum—dry all over her.
When we’d talked about the IUD, a small, fucked-up part of me regretted it, wanting to claim her even more fully.
But I knew better. I’d already done enough to hurt her, getting her pregnant would actually destroy her life in ways I was unwilling to do.
And I was grateful, because the IUD meant we hadn’t needed a condom to separate us.
She shivered in my arms, the water turning cool.
Lifting her out of the tub, I carried her back onto the tile, grabbing a fluffy towel and drying her off, gentle and slow, admiring every naked curve I’d never seen before.
I’d been so desperate to get my mouth on her and then get inside her, I hadn’t bothered to get her naked.
Seeing her bare tits, the swell to her stomach, her pale, perfect skin—well, she was a goddamn miracle.
No woman, living or dead, could compare.
“Do you regret it?” she murmured.
She could read me too well.
I kissed her forehead.
“No,” I said, because I didn’t regret it. Regretting it would mean regretting her. I regretted myself and my actions, period.
She gifted me with a smile as bright as the sun, before yawning.
“Alright, troublemaker. Time for bed.” I dried off too, rewrapping the bandage around my hand, and then lifted her again, carrying her back into the bedroom and placing her gently on the bed, staring down at her.
“Don’t leave me,” she pleaded.
“Like I could,” I said gruffly, sliding under the covers and pulling her into my arms, trying to ignore my horny cock getting the wrong message.
“No more,” she said, also feeling it.
I kissed her hair, breathing her sunshine-and-sex scent into my lungs. Memorizing it, so I could recall it whenever I needed to. I had a feeling I would need to often.
“No more,” I promised. “For now.”
As she drifted to sleep, and I held her perfect, vulnerable yet strong body in my imperfect, asshole arms, the truth echoed in my head.
Because it shouldn’t have been “no more for now.”
It should’ve been no more—forever.