Page 19 of Forced Pregnant Mate

The pent-up stress from this day almost exploded when I had to throw down with that asshole Peter. His slimy grin and nasty words continue to ring in my ears as I sit in the tent with Lena. I want to hunt him down and smash his face in.

I can’t believe anyone would do this to any woman, but a father doing this to his daughter is reprehensible beyond belief.

Especially since she is a virgin.

It’s easy to see that Lena is still completely untouched. She’s shivering, and tears are running down her cheeks. I know she’s trying to hide it from me, and it just makes me admire her strength even more.

“Lena,” I say softly, trying to be reassuring. “It’s alright.”

I lean over and grab one of the blankets. I want to wrap it around her and hold her, but I’m worried she might take it as a come-on. I want to show her I respect her space, so I offer it to her instead.

“Would you like a blanket?” I ask.

She nods and takes it, wrapping it around her shoulders. I don’t mention the shivering or the tears. The more time I spend around this family, the more I can see how much she has been abused.

It’s a miracle she has kept her kind heart through all of this.

I sit quietly for a moment, letting her compose herself. I want her so badly that my body is strung as tight as a hot wire, and I’m almost trembling myself.

Her scent is so strong in here… dear God, she smells like fresh cotton candy, still warm from being spun. I just want to open my mouth and—

I shake my head, trying to clear it. I can’t show her how excited I am—she might take it as a threat, and I want her to feel safe.

It’s obvious from her reaction that she’s never been physically close with anyone. Maybe not even casual intimacy, like family hugs.

Peter really looks like the hugging type, I think sarcastically.

The idea that Lena has never experienced a positive physical interaction stirs a deep and terrible sadness in me. Touch is a basic human requirement—just as important as food, water, and rest.

No wonder she won’t give me her heart. It’s been so beaten and bruised already by almost everyone she’s ever known. Including me.

Her words have hit me like sharp blows, but I can’t blame her for them. I deserve it, and so much worse.

“Are you alright?” I ask her. “Can I get you anything?”

She laughs, sniffing at the same time. “I’m okay. You probably shouldn’t leave the tent. Father might shoot you.”

I’d like to see him fucking try.

My arousal is not settling down in the slightest. My eyes are adjusting to the dim light of the lamp, and I can see her pretty face much clearer now. Her tears are slowing down, and she has wiped her cheeks dry. Her lips look full and red, and her eyes are wide and dark.

I want to look into those beautiful eyes while I’m inside her. I want to see her face when she comes.

It occurs to me, at that very moment, that no one has ever seen her come before. For all I know, she never has. The whole topic unfolds in my mind, hurling fuel on the fire of my desire until it’s blazing hot.

I will be her first. I’m the only one who will ever know the sounds she makes, how her face looks, the way her body responds to pleasure…

A primal need rises in me, called up by the intensity of my arousal and the knowledge that she is mine, and mine alone. When I look up into her face, I desperately want to see encouragement, desire, some form of eagerness that will tell me I can at least try to awaken her to me.

Her pretty face is still pensive, and tense. She’s watching me with wide eyes, as if I’m a lit firecracker almost ready to explode. I sigh with resignation, trying to calm myself down.

Just stop thinking about how beautiful she is.

That’s not even slightly possible, but even if I could, her sweet, intense scent is still all around me, like finely spun strawberry and sugar, just begging to melt on my tongue.

“Lena, I can tell you’re still a virgin. It’s okay.”

She doesn’t reply, but her body stiffens up as she looks away. I assume she’s scared of me, so I back away a little more.

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