He gets me a glass of water to take upstairs, and I follow up right behind him. All I can think about is that hard muscle under his shirt, and how it would feel against my skin. How it would feel to touch him. My cheeks warm at the thought.
I grab one of my new nightdresses and he gives me a towel. I wash myself in the same shower he used, and it gives me such a rush to put my fingers between my legs and rub myself in the same spot I watched him come.
It makes me come too. A shuddery one that makes me gasp and press a hand to the tiles for balance.
I wonder if his cum has been there. Right in that spot where my fingers are touching.
I wash quickly after that, wrap my hair in a towel and slip on the nightdress while my skin is still clammy.
The fabric is white and it clings. I catch sight of my nipples in the bathroom mirror, the dark circles so obvious. You can see my hair, too. The hair between my legs.
And I know right then and there exactly how much I like Nick in that way, because I’ve never wanted anyone to see me before, not like this.
Nobody except him.
But it feels naughty to want to be seen like this.
I move so slowly as I step out of the bathroom, listening for any sign of him. I hold my breath and close my eyes, ears straining to hear movement, and I’m so excited when I hear a door handle.
I gulp a little breath as he steps out onto the landing, and he doesn’t see me straight away, he’s too busy fastening his dressing gown belt.
He notices my bare feet first, and his eyes move up, up and up, so very slowly. So slowly that I feel a heat rush from my toes to my cheeks.
He swallows when his gaze reaches the darkness between my legs, and I feel so self-conscious, so much of a stupid kid.
Kelly Anne would cringe if she could see how awkward I am, but I’m doing my best. I lean against the doorframe and push my chest forwards, wishing I had some actual breasts to show him.
I can barely bring myself to look at him, but when I do I can’t look away again.
His eyes are dark and his breath is fast. There’s an edge to him that I haven’t seen before, something heavy and brooding. It makes my tummy tickle.
For the tiniest second I believe he wants me. Wants me like that, and my heart jumps, jumps and races away.
“Thanks for the nightdress,” I say. “It’s really nice.”
His voice comes out raspy. “It looks beautiful on you, Laine.”
I’ve never wanted anything as badly as I want him to touch me right now.
“You should get to bed,” he says. “Get a decent night’s sleep.”
I nod but don’t move, and he comes closer.
I can smell him. Rich and musky.
A proper man.
He brushes by me on his way into the bathroom, and my nipples catch on his robe.
It sends sparks all the way down between my legs, and I press my thighs together, stare up at him as I gasp a little breath.
He stays so still, and so do I.
I can hear my heartbeat in my ears, and I can feel his breath against my forehead.
It’s so easy to tip my face up to his, and I want it so much. I want him to kiss me so much.
“You need to get to bed,” he says, and his voice is strained. “Right now, Laine.”
I meet his eyes, and I want it. I want all of it.
I want him to be my first.
I want him to be the one.
His eyes are hooded and his jaw is tight, but he doesn’t move, doesn’t move a muscle.
“Please, Laine,” he says, and there’s a desperation to it. “Please go to bed… like a good girl.”
Like a good girl.
I want that, too.
I want to be a good girl for Nick.
His fingers brush my arm and it makes me tremble.
“Go,” he says and his voice is serious this time. “You need to go.”
But I can’t move an inch.
Chapter Seven
Nick
I want to shout at her. I want to lose my cool and push her away from me. Bark out orders that she needs to get herself to bed, where she belongs, safe under the covers and away from the lesser man inside me. The man who wants to tear that slip of a nightdress from those pretty little tits and devour her whole.
She’s staring up at me, those doe eyes so wide and innocent. Only she’s not innocent. Not right now.
It’s clear what little Laine is thinking, what she’s wanting.
“I’m not a…” she begins, and I close my eyes. “I’m not a… girl… I’m eighteen, Nick…”
“And I’m much too old for you. Much too old.”
“But… but who says so?” Her voice is quiet and gentle. Her voice is perfect.
“I say so,” I tell her simply and force myself to meet her eyes. “It wouldn’t be right.”
She nods, but she doesn’t believe me. I’m not even sure I believe myself. Because here, on the landing, with this beautiful creature standing so close, with those sweet little nipples poking through flimsy fabric and her tight little pussy just begging to be taken, it feels more right than I dare to admit.
She looks so hurt. It’s in the sag of her shoulders, the confidence of her stance fading into nothing. It only makes me want her more.
Her pretty eyes are glassy, and her pale little fingers are fidgeting, and I can feel her, the heat of her.
“I know I look young… and I know I act it, too… what with Ted and liking stupid cereals and not being able to get myself home at night… but I’m… I’m not… that’s not who I am…”
“I like you as you are, Laine. I like you with Ted and I like you liking stupid cereals and needing someone. There’s nothing wrong with being vulnerable, there’s nothing wrong with needing help.”
“But there is…” she whispers. “Because I like you… like that.”
I make myself say the right words. The sane words. “You’ve had a traumatic experience. It’s easy to get confused, Laine. To believe you want something that maybe you don’t.”
She’s shaking her head before I’ve finished. “I’ve never… I’ve never wanted… not ever.” She takes a breath. “I’ve never liked anyone like that. Like this.”
The lesser man in me wants to believe her. The lesser man in me has all the justification he needs to ravage her delicate little body and make her mine.
But I don’t.
“You don’t know me,” I say.
“I know enough…”
No. No she doesn’t.
I shake my head, but she’s not listening. Her fingers come up to grip my arms, as though her touch has the power to defy my words and I catch the scent of her, the soap she used to wash, mixed with that divine aroma of crazy young hormones. I can’t deny the eager twitch beneath my robe.
“I see you, Nick. I see how much you care for me, how you’ve taken care of me, how you rescued me. You make me feel safe, you make me feel wanted, you make me feel…” Her voice dries up.
“Make you feel what..?”
She takes a little breath.
“…How do I make you feel?”
Her fingers squeeze, and she smiles a sad smile, and my heart is hers. It’s been hers since she stared up at me in the rain. It’s been hers since she blew out her birthday candle.
“Loved,” she whispers. “You make me feel loved. And I’ve never… had that… and I want to… show you…”
Show you how grateful I am.