Page 12 of Innocent Rose

So now I know. I don't have to guess anymore. I’ve made enough memories with her to last the rest of my life, if need be, and that's exactly how it should be. Because it cannot, must not happen again in any way, shape, or form. One of us has to be the adult. The realist.

So what if the idea causes me literal pain? My chest hurts like something sits on it by the time I get out of bed. I can still smell her lingering on my upper lip and it’s enough to make me twitch painfully in my shorts. Her sweet pussy, as sweet as her name would suggest.

Pussy I can never taste again, or touch, or even think about. The more I think about it, the more I’ll want it.

Talk about an impossible fucking situation.

Liz has been gone for hours by now, leaving me alone in the house with the temptress down the hall. It's almost cruel. I know if I were to go to her room right now, she would throw back the blanket and spread her legs and beg for more of what I gave her last night.

And I would be powerless against that, the way I was the moment she said she wanted me. By the time she stripped off that shirt, I was gone. There was no hope of resisting.

I can't put either of us in that situation again, that's all.

Today, I'll find ways to keep myself busy while Liz is at work. I can't believe I'm relying on my own daughter to serve as chaperone. It's shameful—at least, I should be ashamed. I can't bring myself to genuinely feel it, though.

Because that would mean forgetting how good it was. How right. Finally, I was able to give myself what I wanted most. What we both evidently wanted.

A cold shower might be in order this morning. But I doubt cold enough water exists to freeze her out of my system or to wipe away the memory of holding her down and forcing her to accept what I was so desperate to give.

Can I trust her to stay quiet? The question makes me cringe. I lean into the shower and turn on the taps before getting undressed, mulling it over. My cock is still stiff, but it isn’t like I can trust him to care much about the truth. All he cares about is getting into her. A virgin. So fucking tight, so hot. If she came alive under my tongue, what would she do with me inside that silky sheath?

Oh my God, I’m going to lose it if I don’t stop.

Why am I torturing myself like this?

By the time I’m in the shower, I’ve decided she’s trustworthy.

She loves Liz like a sister and would never do anything to hurt their friendship. My daughter is a levelheaded, smart kid, but when it comes to touchy situations like this, that sort of thing tends not to matter.

I duck my head under the water, letting it run over my head and face. Maybe it’ll help me think better. Something has to.

It takes a second for me to notice the bathroom door standing open, visible through the shower door. The glass swings open not a second before I realize I’m not alone.

My heart leaps at the sight of her, standing in front of me without a stitch of clothing to hide her gorgeous body. Perfection, head to toe. Untouched by anyone but me.

And those wide, innocent eyes that are somehow wise. Knowing. She knows exactly what she’s doing, even if she doesn’t yet understand the consequences of playing with fire.

Wake the fuck up. “What are you doing?” If I sound angry, it’s with myself for encouraging this in the first place. “You don’t walk in on me in the shower. You can’t do that.”

“I thought maybe you could use some help washing your back.” I barely bite back a groan when her white teeth sink into her bottom lip. “And whatever else you can’t reach.”

“I don’t need help,” I growl.

Yes, yes, I do, I need all the help I can get. Otherwise, I’ll have no choice but to make the same damn mistake like the hopeless fool I am.

“But you want it, don’t you? You want me.” She looks down at the floor and frowns. “Water’s getting everywhere. Either you let me in or close the door before the bathroom floods.”

She would have to leave it to me, wouldn’t she? As if I’d choose to close the door and leave her on the other side of it. Like I can resist the sight of her, just begging to be touched and claimed. I’m only human, for fuck’s sake.

And I can’t do anything to get around the fact she belongs to me. She is mine. Why would I want her so badly if this wasn't meant to be? I'm thinking like a child, but I can't shake the burning desire to make her mine forever. To bind her to me, body and soul.

It's with a groan of weakness that I reach for her, pulling her to me, growling like the animal she's turned me into. “What am I supposed to do with you?” I ask as the door swings closed, and steam envelops us.

Fuck, this is entirely different. Naked body to naked body, the water sluicing between us, her skin slippery under my hands. “You’re so big everywhere,” she coos, and her touch is magic, lighting up parts of me I thought were dead. Waking me up to what I’ve held myself back from for so long.

This woman. This magic, precious woman.

“Touch me,” she begs in a shaky whisper. “Touch me everywhere. I'm dying for you.”

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