Page 9 of His to Watch
"You okay?" he rumbles, his voice vibrating through his chest and into mine. His eyes search my face with an intensity that makes me want to hide and preen at the same time.
"I think so?" My voice sounds small, uncertain. My body feels different—claimed, changed, marked. "I've never…that was..."Words fail me, my academic vocabulary useless in the face of what we've just shared.
He shifts slightly, still careful not to crush me, his massive body making the couch seem like doll furniture. I wince as the movement causes a twinge of soreness between my legs.
"Did I hurt you?" Concern flashes across his usually stoic features.
"A little," I admit. "But it's okay. I mean, I knew it would…that the first time would..."
His expression softens, one large hand coming up to stroke my cheek with surprising tenderness. “I’ll also take care of what’s mine, baby.”
Mine.The possessiveness in his voice should alarm me. We barely know each other—at least, I barely know him. But my body responds to his claim with another clench around his still-hard length inside me, drawing a groan from both of us.
"I should..." He begins to withdraw, and I bite my lip against the strange emptiness that follows as he slips free of my body. Something warm trickles between my thighs—his release, mixed with the evidence of my virginity. I should be embarrassed, but all I feel is a strange pride.
"Stay here," he commands softly, rising from the couch. I watch his naked form as he crosses to the small attached bathroom—all muscle and power, scars scattered across his broad back telling stories I suddenly want to know.
He returns with a damp paper towel, kneeling between my legs with unexpected gentleness. "Let me," he says, carefully cleaning the mixture of fluids from my thighs. The tender care in this act, after the raw possession of moments before, makes my chest tight with emotion.
"You were more perfect than I ever imagined,” he murmurs, his eyes dark as they travel over my naked body. "So perfect for your daddy.”
The praise washes over me like warm honey, soothing places inside me I didn't know needed soothing. The term "Daddy" should disturb me—I have a perfectly good father who raised me with love and support. But when Jerald says it, it means something entirely different. Something primal and claiming and…right.
"I never…I never do things like this," I whisper, needing him to understand. "I'm not the type to—to have sex with someone I barely know."
His large hand cups my cheek. "You know me better than you think. I've been watching you for eight months. Learning you. And you've felt me watching, haven't you?"
I nod, unable to deny it. "But why me? I'm just…ordinary. Boring, even."
A flash of genuine anger crosses his face. "Don't say that. Ever again." His thumb traces my bottom lip. "You're fucking perfect. Smart. Gentle. Passionate about things that matter. Beautiful in ways those empty-headed idiots who surround you could never understand."
My eyes burn with unexpected tears. No one has ever seen me this way—as special, as valuable, as worthy of such intense focus.
"I don't know what to say," I whisper honestly.
"Don't need to say anything." He leans down, pressing a surprisingly tender kiss to my forehead before helping me sit up. "Here."
He hands me his security uniform shirt, which engulfs me completely when I slip it on. The fabric smells like him—that masculine scent of leather and spice that's quickly becoming familiar. Comforting.
I watch as he pulls on just his uniform pants, leaving his chest bare—a landscape of hard muscle and scattered scars that tell of a life far different from my sheltered academic existence.
"Water?" he asks, handing me a bottle before I can answer.
I drink gratefully, suddenly aware of my parched throat. As the initial haze of pleasure fades, reality begins to seep in. We're still locked in the museum. Still have hours before anyone will come. Hours before real life intrudes.
"What happens when they open the doors?" I ask, the question slipping out before I can stop it.
He stills, those dark eyes locking on mine with an intensity that steals my breath. "What do you want to happen?"
"I—I don't know." And I don't. This night already feels unreal—the power outage, the confession of my lonely life, the way he called me his, the mind-bending pleasure of his possession. Will it all evaporate in daylight? "Is this just…because we're locked in? A one-time thing?"
A muscle ticks in his jaw. "Is that what you want it to be?"
"No," I admit, surprising myself with the certainty in my voice. "But I don't know how this works. What happens next. If you'll still want—" I gesture vaguely at myself, suddenly self-conscious despite everything we've just shared.
He moves with that unexpected speed again, suddenly looming over me, one hand braced on the back of the couch beside my head, the other grasping my chin firmly.
"Listen to me very carefully, little girl," he growls, his face inches from mine. "This isn't a fucking fling. This isn't a lockdown mistake. I've wanted you from the first moment I saw you. Every shift watching you, wanting you, planning exactly how I'd claim you if I ever got the chance. Now that I've had you, felt how perfectly you take me, heard the sounds you make when I fill you up? There's no going back. You're mine now."
