Chapter Twenty-Five
preston
I reply to her text before I can second-guess it.
You’re off tomorrow. Sleep in. I’ll leave the keys for you.
No response.
Not right away, anyway. Maybe she's asleep already. But I imagine her lying in bed, catching her breath. Still panting, if I did my job right.
And, fuck, I hope I did.
I sit with the afterglow of it longer than I should—the image of her spread out and gasping, while my hands stayed firmly above her waist. My body still aches from holding back. My head swims with the sound of her voice, the way she fell apart with her legs shaking and my name on her tongue.
I shouldn’t be this hard over a memory. Especially not ten minutes after jerking off.
And yet, here we are.
I head to my room, ready for a lonesome round two.
* * *
It’s early morning, and Lily and I eat in easy silence, broken only by the flip of pages. This kind of quiet only happens when she’s truly focused—and it never lasts long.
She chews her peanut butter toast thoughtfully, eyes locked on the storybook she brought home from school. But when the silence stretches a few pages too long, I know something’s off. If I had to bet, she’s sulking about Mia being away this morning.
Lily doesn’t say it, and I don’t press. Some feelings are easier to chew through with toast.
Still, I nudge the open bag of chocolate-covered raisins a little closer to her side of the table. Not subtle, but effective.
One brow lifts. She takes two, then turns another page, like I’ve barely earned her forgiveness. I’ll take the small victory coated in chocolate.
“When is Mia coming back?”
Ha. Knew it.
“She’s just helping Auntie April and Uncle Liam find a new house. She’ll pick you up from school—I promise.”
Will you look at that? The nanny’s got the whole house wrapped around her finger.
She doesn’t say anything after that. Just nods and goes back to her book, flipping another page like the conversation never happened.
Then she starts humming—low and tuneless, just a thread of sound.
But I recognize the cadence.
Mia hums like that when she’s focused.
It’s a small thing, but it hits hard. Too hard to ignore. Too deep and complicated to rationalize. Mia’s woven herself into our lives so quickly. There’s a thread tying her to my daughter now. And there’s no denying it: we’re happier with her around.
“I thought you liked Tuesdays,” I offer gently. “Less pressure than Mondays. And you’ve got gym class too.”
Lily shrugs without looking up. Great. I’m getting the silent treatment. Apparently, giving the nanny the morning off without consulting her first is grounds for rebellion. I’ve explained Mia’s absence multiple times already, but the logic fell on deaf ears.
Still, her brows twitch when I stand. “I forgot something,” I say, grabbing my phone.
She narrows her eyes, looking suspicious.
I gesture toward the stairs. “Just upstairs. One minute.”
She exhales, full of the long-suffering sigh of a child forced to tolerate adult incompetence, then slides off the chair with exaggerated effort. “Fine.”
God, I love this kid.
I swallow a laugh out of respect for her feelings and theatrical talent.
Backpack slung over her shoulder, she drifts toward the front door, pulling on her headphones and tapping her iPad to start a new Duolingo lesson. Spanish this week. Last week, it was Italian. She’s six and already outpacing me.
I hover until she presses play. “?Dónde está la biblioteca?” echoes faintly from her headphones.
Good enough.
I bolt.
Two steps at a time. Trying not to think. Failing.
I shouldn’t check on Mia. I know better.
I should give her space. Let her rest. Be grateful she didn’t run screaming from the house this morning.
Hell, I should still be downstairs with my daughter, doing responsible things like cleaning up after breakfast or planning a weekend museum trip.
Instead, I’m halfway to Mia’s door with a semi and a fast-slipping grip on my good ol’ common sense.
I pause.
I should text her and leave. That’s what a sane man would do.
My hand hovers over my phone, thumb grazing the edge, caught between the vivid memory of her moaning and the low, steady hum slipping beneath her door.
Did she leave already and forget to turn something off?
Or is she still in there, and I get to see her before I go?
It’s not loud. Barely there. But it crawls up my spine like a warning.
I step closer.
Could be a fan. Could be a toothbrush. Could be none of my business.
I bring my hand to the doorknob and hesitate. I really do.
Then a sound. Barely audible, a breath or a whimper or a—
All logic goes quiet.
I push the door slightly open. Slowly. Just to make my voice heard. Just to make sure she’s—
“Mia?” I call softly.
No answer.
A flicker of panic slams into me. Irrational. Immediate.
Why isn’t she answering? What if something happened? What if she fainted? What if…
I don’t think. I move.
And my brain detonates.
Mia’s propped against a stack of pillows. A fucking masterpiece. Camisole bunched up, baring one perfect full breast. Flushed like sin itself. Her thick thighs are spread wide, her hand buried between them, and my cock hardens in an instant.
The toy in her grip whirs softly. Too soft for the devastation it’s causing.
Her chest heaves with each short breath. Her mouth hangs open, letting tiny moans run free.
My first observation is medical.
Pupils dilated. Skin flushed. Breathing shallow. Pelvis tilted to relieve pressure—
Oh, no. Not pressure.
Pleasure.
Fuck.
Every part of me goes quiet.
Then feral. The sound that escapes my throat is not human.
She gasps when she sees me.
The toy wavers in her grip, not quite pulled away. Her lips part like she might apologize, but I don’t give her the chance to utter a word.
“Don’t stop. If you want me gone, say the word. But don’t stop. Not on my behalf.”
I watch the doubt swimming in her eyes, the toy missing its spot.
“Please,” I add, softer now. Begging.
I need her not to stop.
Need to watch her fall apart.
Need to know she’ll let me.
Her eyes find mine; the toy keeps buzzing, mocking the space between us.
“Stay or go? Use your words, Trouble.”
The most beautiful deer in headlights.
“Stay,” she stutters after a beat.
Then presses the toy back against her clit.
A broken whimper tears from her throat. Her hips jerk upward, one knee falling wider. Her whole body trembles while we watch each other.
My spine straightens like it’s been struck.
“That’s my good girl,” I say, and it nearly unmans me.
She moves with more purpose now, hips twitching, sheets twisting in her free hand. The nanny is putting on a show for me, whether she knows it or not.
“Keep going. Just like that.”
First, her jaw tightens, then a silent moan has her mouth falling open.
I see it. Her body wants to give in, and she’s trying to hold on.
Not on my watch, Trouble.
“Let’s begin your lessons, Mia.”
Her legs close around the vibrator, muffling the buzzing sound.
“Lesson one: you follow my instructions. Turn it up,” I say.
Her hand fumbles with the button. The moment it clicks, the sound rises above her thighs.
“Jesus, look at you,” I murmur. “One day soon, when you let me, it’s going to be me making you moan pretty like that. Want to know what I’d do if I were inside you while that thing works your clit?”
She arches again, suction stuttering with how hard she’s shaking. Her thighs twitch, her body already knowing where I’m going with this.
“Let me paint you the picture.” I let the words settle, and her imagination grow wings.
“You—full. My cock buried deep, stretching that pretty pussy open while that toy pulses against your clit.” I pause.
Watch her break just a little more. “I’d keep going until you couldn’t string a sentence together.
Until all you could do was scream my name and take it. ”
A soft cry escapes her, shattering the silence she’s trying so hard to keep.
“I’d hold you there. Keep you spread and trembling. Feel every clench around my cock while I fuck you slow and ruthlessly, and your body remembers that coming is something you do better when it’s for me.”
She lets out a sound that’s more breath than voice.
“Feel it, Mia. Hear me. And eyes on me while I watch you come apart.”
She tries, but her eyes roll back. Her thighs clamp tight around her wrist. She can’t take much more.
“Mia.” My voice roughens. “Up the setting. One more time. Now.”
She fumbles again, and when it kicks up… She sobs.
“You’re doing so good, baby. Hold it there.”
Her thighs shake. Her hips lift clear off the bed, chasing every filthy thing I haven’t done to her yet.
“You’re close, aren’t you?” I know I am.
She nods. Fast. Desperate.
“Say it.” I like to hear her too. And I love it even more when she obeys.
“I’m close. So close.”
My jaw is about to snap. “Let go. Do it for me. Stop pretending to be good and let go the way you need to. Let me see you come, baby.”
Her orgasm crashes through her like a wave.
Full-body and violent. Pure surrender.
She jerks beneath it—back arched, mouth open, her hand releasing the sheets just in time to muffle the scream.
Her thighs tense, and a heartbeat later, her legs fall loose and boneless.
At the sight of her wrecked like that, the doorframe cracks under my grip. That’s how wound up I am.
I’ve never been so hard in my life.
Then—
“Daaaaad. We’re going to be late!”
I recoil so fast I damn near finish tearing the doorframe out of the wall.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!
“I’m coming!” I croak, already scrambling to adjust myself in my pants.
“I just did,” she murmurs with a wicked little twist of her lips. The kind that fulfills every prophecy of the name I gave her.
Mia lies there. Beautiful and smug. Fucking radiant.
Chest rising. Hair a mess. Lips curled into a smile that might kill me.
I stare. Speechless.
Afraid I may never recover from this.
Certain, either way, I’m utterly fucked.