Page 37 of Before He Was Her Headmaster

It is not my fault that I spontaneously combust at the sight of my much older lover looking every inch a fucking lumberjack. As in, a lumberjack who should fuck me. A lumberjack who would look even better with my mouth wrapped around his dick or my pussy on his face.

A Daddy Lumberjack with a big, mean, monster cock.

I already knew I had a type—Sebastian. No other man has even remotely interested me. But Sebastian wearing a plaid shirt over a sweat-dampened, white T-shirt?

My panties evaporate. I step into the clearing, and he immediately pivots in my direction. The spark that arcs between us is immediate and intense. He huffs a breath and sets down his ax. “Lily.”

That’s it. He just says my name, and I know we’re going to break the rules again because we can’t help ourselves.

“I was just… for real….”

He picks up a pile of sticks and hands them to me. “It’s okay. Come back with me. You can carry the kindling.”

I trot after him with glee. He’s got his ax over one shoulder and three split logs in the other arm. We’re not that far from his house, I realize, when he takes a path on the other side of the clearing. He stacks the logs on top of a significant pile on the porch.

“You’ve been busy,” I remark as he takes the kindling bundle and shoves it in a bucket.

He hauls me inside. “I had to find some way to burn off this energy I desperately wish I could use to make love to you.”

The way he says that makes me melt. But the next thing he says makes me pout.

He lets go of me and leads the way into the kitchen instead of his bedroom. “What do you want for dinner?”

I pull off my long-sleeve outer layer top. “Daddy’s cock.”

“Lily.” He gives me a stern look. “You’re skipping dinner to be here. I need to feed you.”

I shrug. “Whatever. And how do you know I skipped dinner?”

He doesn’t explain. “What do you like?”

“Pasta?”

“Is that a question?” He pins his best headmaster look on me. “You know I’d prefer an honest answer.”

“I do like pasta. A lot. With cheese is good.”

“I have… spaghetti and elbow noodles. If you like cheese, I could do macaroni?”

“That’s little kid food.” I scoff. But it also sounds perfect, and my stomach grumbles at the same time.

He grins. “Well, I like it. Are you calling me a little kid?”

“No.”

He hauls me into his body and kisses my pouting lower lip. “I think you’re all woman, Lily. Never fear that. But there’s nothing wrong with feeding the little kid inside you, too.” His gaze darkens. “Do you want Daddy to make you macaroni while you tell him how your day was?”

I shouldn’t want that. I shouldn’t lean into our age gap that much. But Idowant that, and he told me he wanted me to be honest. “Yes,” I whisper. And then I start shaking.

“Hey.” His touch instantly gentles, soothing as he lifts me onto the counter and wraps his arms around me. “It’s okay.”

“It’s stupid.”

“I don’t even know whatitis, but I promise it’s not stupid.” He kisses my temple, his breath warm and steady.

I’m horrified to realize I’m crying.

He smooths his hand over my back and waits. Just holding me. Not asking me again whatitis, which is good. Because I don’t know.

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