Forbidden Lesson in Mother’s Bed - Chapter 6: Chapter 6
You are reading Forbidden Lesson in Mother’s Bed, Chapter 6: Chapter 6. Read more chapters of Forbidden Lesson in Mother’s Bed.
The morning light brought no relief - just sore muscles and vivid memories. I blinked at the crimson stain on my sheets, my mind still foggy with sleep and something heavier.
I'd given my virginity to Mr. Roland.
Part of me thrilled at the thought. After months of secret longing, I'd finally become his. But something didn't add up - the man who'd taken me last night wasn't the same gentle teacher I knew from school. At home, his gaze had turned predatory, sending shivers down my spine.
Maybe I was imagining things. Six months wasn't long enough to truly know someone, after all.
Mom actually rode me to school that morning - a rare act of kindness I didn't refuse. My legs still trembled from last night's activities. The pain barely faded during morning classes, and when the break between periods ended, I found myself rushing awkwardly through the halls - my gait still unsteady.
That's when I crashed into him at the stairwell.
Mr. Roland caught me with those same steady hands that had explored my body hours before. "Easy there," he murmured, voice soft as classroom chalk. I couldn't meet his eyes, fleeing to my seat with burning ears.
Last night's memories played on loop - my breathy moans, the way I'd secretly called him "husband" in my mind. The shame of it made concentrating impossible. His lecture might as well have been in another language.
When he pulled me into his office during recess, my pulse skyrocketed. But instead of whispered confessions, he slid a math test across his desk. "Complete the multiple-choice," he said, all business.
I stared. Was he really going to pretend nothing happened? My gaze traced his features hungrily - the curve of his jaw, that tiny mole near his eye.
He cleared his throat. Knuckles rapped against wood. I ignored it.
Leaning forward, I let him see what I'd hidden all morning - no compression top, no bra. My uniform stretched tight across curves I usually disguised. His eyes flickered downward before he jerked his head away.
"Look at me," I begged, grabbing his wrist and pressing it between my breasts. He went rigid.
"Don't you remember?" My voice cracked. "You held me. Said you loved me. Said you'd take me hard."
His scent - laundry soap today, not last night's cologne - made my head spin. I backed him into the corner, pressing my face against his shirt, breathing him in. Heat coiled low in my stomach.
"I want you. Right here."
"Vivian, you—" His push was half-hearted at best.
After last night, I craved him. Even now, just looking at him made me ache.
"Mr. Roland," I whispered, tears welling. "Do you really not remember anything?"
His eyes squeezed shut like he was scared of what he might see.
"Nothing... happened between us."
I'd given my virginity to Mr. Roland.
Part of me thrilled at the thought. After months of secret longing, I'd finally become his. But something didn't add up - the man who'd taken me last night wasn't the same gentle teacher I knew from school. At home, his gaze had turned predatory, sending shivers down my spine.
Maybe I was imagining things. Six months wasn't long enough to truly know someone, after all.
Mom actually rode me to school that morning - a rare act of kindness I didn't refuse. My legs still trembled from last night's activities. The pain barely faded during morning classes, and when the break between periods ended, I found myself rushing awkwardly through the halls - my gait still unsteady.
That's when I crashed into him at the stairwell.
Mr. Roland caught me with those same steady hands that had explored my body hours before. "Easy there," he murmured, voice soft as classroom chalk. I couldn't meet his eyes, fleeing to my seat with burning ears.
Last night's memories played on loop - my breathy moans, the way I'd secretly called him "husband" in my mind. The shame of it made concentrating impossible. His lecture might as well have been in another language.
When he pulled me into his office during recess, my pulse skyrocketed. But instead of whispered confessions, he slid a math test across his desk. "Complete the multiple-choice," he said, all business.
I stared. Was he really going to pretend nothing happened? My gaze traced his features hungrily - the curve of his jaw, that tiny mole near his eye.
He cleared his throat. Knuckles rapped against wood. I ignored it.
Leaning forward, I let him see what I'd hidden all morning - no compression top, no bra. My uniform stretched tight across curves I usually disguised. His eyes flickered downward before he jerked his head away.
"Look at me," I begged, grabbing his wrist and pressing it between my breasts. He went rigid.
"Don't you remember?" My voice cracked. "You held me. Said you loved me. Said you'd take me hard."
His scent - laundry soap today, not last night's cologne - made my head spin. I backed him into the corner, pressing my face against his shirt, breathing him in. Heat coiled low in my stomach.
"I want you. Right here."
"Vivian, you—" His push was half-hearted at best.
After last night, I craved him. Even now, just looking at him made me ache.
"Mr. Roland," I whispered, tears welling. "Do you really not remember anything?"
His eyes squeezed shut like he was scared of what he might see.
"Nothing... happened between us."
End of Forbidden Lesson in Mother’s Bed Chapter 6. Continue reading Chapter 7 or return to Forbidden Lesson in Mother’s Bed book page.