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Except for when it’s a matter of life and death.
Jesus. I push inside and slam the door behind me.
In my arms, she rouses a little. “Ford?”
“It’s me, baby.” I think about putting her down on the couch, but I don’t have any throw blankets or shit like that.
She needs to warm up.
She needs to be in my bed.
My bedroom is on the ocean side of the lighthouse, a cozy nook of a room with a single window high on the wall. It’s dark and warm, only the light from the occasional pass of the turning beacon high above illuminating us. And it has an extra heater that I’ll crank up just as soon as I get her under the covers.
“I need you. . .” she murmurs as I unzip her wet coat and discard it.
“You need to get warm,” I mutter.
“Be my Santa again.” It’s a whisper, and her words break as she shivers.
I set her down on the bed, gentle as can be, then pull off her boots. Her tights are wet, and through them, her skin is cold.
I say a prayer to whoever the patron saint of horny old men is and tap her face. “Neely, sweetheart. Can you get undressed? I’ll find you a shirt.”
No response.
I pull the blankets over her. Fuck. I turn up the heater, take her coat out to the living room, and hang it next to my woodstove. Taking off my wet clothes, I text Susan to say that Neely is here and already asleep for the night—sort of true—then stalk back to the bedroom.
She’s shivering under the blankets.
Fuck it. I strip down to my boxers and climb in with her. “Let’s never talk about this again,” I whisper as I tug her dress up to her hips and find the waistband of her tights.
She’s so damn little in my hands. My fingers cover a lot of her flesh as I peel them off. I can’t help but brush her panties and notice where the soft cotton covers her ass cheeks—and where it doesn’t. Not so little anymore, I guess. Her bottom fills my hands as I get the tights down to her thighs, and a flash of forbidden desire crystallizes in my mind.
Neely on top of me. My hands on her hips, guiding her down onto my cock. Those cotton panties ripped away, her wearing nothing at all as I watch my erection disappear inside her perfect little cunt.
Her sexy, untouched virgin pussy.
Daddy’s little girl, taking every inch of his massive cock, until he’s buried inside her.
I shake it off. It’s bad enough I have the fantasies of Neely saving herself for me. It's definitely crossing a line to let them into my mind while I undress her because she needs my body heat.
I leave her dress on because it didn’t get wet thanks to her coat, and I tuck her up against me, her chilly hands pressed against my chest, her chilly legs folded in between mine.
It doesn’t take long for her to stop shivering and her breath to even out. Once we’ve built up enough warmth under the blankets, I ease up my grip on her, and she rolls out of my arms and curls up on her other side, her back to me now.
Dark hair spills across my pillow.
I tuck the blankets in around her and climb out of bed, ignoring the way my dick has chubbed up from having her in my arms. Now that she’s warm again, I need to put on some clothes. And get her a glass of water and an assortment of medicine.
When I return, I discover she’s thrown off the covers.
“Stop that,” I growl at her. Because I can, because she’s asleep, and she can’t hear me being my true, mean self. I tug the blanket back up her now splayed legs. I cover her cotton-covered mound—white with blue snowflakes; that’s going in the spank bank, and I’m going to hell—and tuck the blanket securely around her torso again.
I go to stroke her damp hair off her forehead, jerking my hand back when I realize she’s burning up.
“Neely,” I snap. “Wake up.”
That does nothing.
