Chapter 110 What Lesson?

Chapter 110 What Lesson?
Chapter 110: What Lesson? 

Ivy 

I snatched my phone from his hand, glaring at him. “Don’t touch my stuff.”

“That’s your boyfriend, isn’t it?” he said. “Hold on… You cheated on your boyfriend with me?”

“That’s none of your business.”

He laughed, raking his hand through his hair. “Oh my God.” He chuckled like the whole thing was a private joke he couldn’t believe he was in. “I can’t believe this.”

“Believe whatever you want. I’m leaving.” I turned.

“So he was the one who put that hickey on you yesterday? Principal Skye might not have seen it, but I did.” 

The question stopped me like a hand around my ankle.

“Does Alvin know his girlfriend clenched around me? Gripped my fucking dick like a vice and dripped all over my bed like she hasn’t been fucked in five years?” He smiled. Cocky. Satisfied. “I don’t think so. Does he know you were sent here to teach, but you ended up on your knees for me?”

His words affected me. God knows they always did. Whenever Leo talked dirty, the heat in my core intensified—even now, even sore, even leaking the proof of what we’d already done. I felt myself clench around nothing. The ache was humiliating.

I wouldn’t let him see it.

I discreetly pressed my already aching thighs together and scoffed. “So what? I had an itch and you were available to help with it. Nothing else. Why make a big deal out of something that was purely sex?”

He raised a brow, surprised. Then he clapped. Once. Twice. “Well done. I’m impressed with this new Ivy. So open-minded.” He laughed. “Too bad you weren’t like this before. We would have had a lot more fun.”

“Too bad you weren't patient enough to get this version of me.” I folded my arms, mostly to hide the way my hands wanted to shake. “Besides, you already see me as a cheater, right? So what’s the problem in living up to that title?”

His expression turned serious immediately. The smile vanished like someone had wiped it off his face with a cloth.

“You’re not a cheater.” He clenched his fists at his sides. “I know the truth now. I was a fool for believing that. I'm sorry.”

That caught me off guard so hard I forgot the ache in my chest for a second. “You… know the truth?” My heartbeat sped up. “You believe me now?”

“Anderson and I had a—”

“No.” The word ripped out of me. “I don’t want to hear about him. I don’t want to hear his name or see his face. Please.”

“Ivy, I think you need to see—”

“Excuse me, Mr. Teague.” I was already moving toward the door, phone crushed in my hand, skirt sticking slightly to my thighs because I still wasn’t wearing anything underneath it. “Callum must be looking for me now.”

He didn’t say anything else. He didn’t stop me. He just let me walk out, and I was grateful for that in the same way a person is grateful when a building doesn’t collapse on them.

The hallway felt too long. Every step reminded me what I’d done. Worse, I had no panties on. 

My body had taken someone built like Leo after five years and it was still paying the bill. Sitting would hurt. Walking already did. The place he’d stretched widest pulsed with every movement, a deep ache that made my ears burn.

When I returned to the living room, Callum was still in the exact same spot I’d left him in. Still focused on his work, crayons scattered like he hadn’t noticed time passing at all.

He looked up when he saw me approaching. “That was a long time, Miss Ivy.”

I flinched. I guess that was the thing with guilt. It didn’t wait for a convenient moment. It just arrived, sat down, and made itself comfortable. Like now.

A cough forced its way out of my throat. “Uh, yeah… sorry about that. Your daddy and I just had to spend a lot more time… engaging in certain… things.”

I’ve never been a good liar. Now I desperately wished I was. At least then I wouldn’t be standing in front of a four-year-old sounding like an idiot while his father’s cum was still inside me.

He studied me for some time, looking at me from head to toe with the unnerving focus only children have. I didn't dare breathe. 

“Miss Ivy, did you and my daddy have a fight? How come your clothes don’t look the same anymore? And your face is all red too?” He cocked his head to the side. “I heard you screaming from daddy’s room. Did my daddy hurt you?”

I was tongue-tied.

What was I supposed to tell the child? That his dad and I had had another kind of fight? That this fight ended with my face against the wall, my skirt around my waist, and his father inside me so deep I would still feel every inch of him for the rest of the week?

Shame flooded my veins. How did I end up like this?

I shook my head, trying to get rid of the images before they showed on my face, and carefully sat down beside him. 

Careful because I wasn’t wearing underwear. Careful to keep my legs closed and angled to the side so I wouldn’t flash a four-year-old anything that would require therapy later. 

The second my weight settled on the chair, the soreness lit up. A dull, stretching reminder. I had to breathe through it.

“No. Your daddy and I didn’t have a fight. We just talked and—”

I was cut off by Leo’s loud voice and heavy footsteps. “Hey, buddy.”

I looked up and saw him. He took my breath away, just like he always did. That was a problem. I needed to stop getting so affected by him. 

He was dressed in a pair of sweatpants now, but his chest was still bare. His hair was still damp, slicked back and away from his face. And he seemed happy.

He was smiling at me. I glared at him. Why the hell was he suddenly so happy?

“Daddy!” Callum squealed, dropped everything he was doing, and rushed toward him.

Leo picked him up easily, smiling like the last hour hadn’t happened. “You hungry? You’ve been at this for a while.”

Callum nodded excitedly. “Yes, Daddy!” Then he pointed at me, utterly innocent. “Miss Ivy’s hungry too. Can she eat with us?”

Leo’s eyes turned to me, sparkling with mischief. “Of course she can. Miss Ivy needs a lot of food. She did burn a lot of energy after all.”

My eyes widened. Shame lit up my blood like fire. “Mr Teague…” I warned. 

Leo just winked as he turned toward the kitchen. “Come on, Miss Lennon. You need to regain your strength after all that.”

My cheeks warmed instantly. My feet, traitors that they were, followed them anyway.

I couldn’t look away from the scene in front of me even though I wanted to. Callum’s tiny hands were wrapped around Leo’s neck. He wouldn’t stop talking about our lessons today—including, loudly, the fact that he heard Miss Ivy screaming from Daddy’s room.

Leo turned and smirked at me before he kept walking. “I just had to teach Miss Ivy a very hard lesson. Don't worry, I didn't hurt her.” 

Asshole.

He set Callum on the counter and leaned in front of him, all easy dad energy, all bare feet and wet hair and the kind of domestic warmth that made what we’d done feel even filthier. 

“So… what do you want for lunch?”

Callum tapped his chin, thinking with a smile on his face. “Umm… mac and cheese, Daddy!”

Leo grinned. “I can handle that.”

But before he could turn, Callum squinted at his shoulder, then pointed. “Daddy, what’s that?”

Leo smiled like he already knew exactly what Callum was talking about. Maybe he’d even appeared shirtless for this reason. Maybe he wanted to taunt me in the one place I couldn’t fight back.

He pointed lazily at the place I’d sunk my teeth into him not too long ago. “This?” he asked calmly. “Why don’t we ask Miss Ivy?”

Callum immediately turned to me, bright-eyed, curious, waiting. “Miss Ivy, why does Daddy have a mark right there?”

My legs went weak.

The kitchen suddenly felt too bright. Too small. Too full of a child who had heard me scream and a man who had been inside me less than twenty minutes ago and was now using that fact like a toy.

I could still feel the exact moment I’d bitten him. The way I’d done it to keep from making noise. The way his skin had tasted. The way he’d told me to hold on for dear life. Don’t scream.

And now that mark was sitting on his shoulder in front of his son. And he wasn't even trying to hide it.

“I—” My voice came out thin. “I don’t… I think your daddy bumped into something.”

Callum frowned, unconvinced in that brutal little way children have. “But it looks like teeth.”

Leo’s mouth twitched. “Does it?” he asked, still looking at me. “Funny. I wonder how that happened.”

I wanted the floor to open. 

“Miss Ivy?” Callum prompted again, swinging his feet. “Did you bite Daddy?”

Leo raised his brows at me, the picture of patient curiosity. The sweatpants sat low on his hips. The mark was glaring now that I was staring at it. Red.

“No,” I said too quickly. “Of course not. Why would I bite your daddy?”

Leo hummed. “That’s actually a good question.”

He opened a cupboard like this was nothing, like he wasn’t enjoying every second of my suffering. Boxes shifted. A pot landed on the stove. 

“Callum,” I said, forcing a smile that felt like it might crack my face, “why don’t you tell me more about the drawing you were doing? The one with the blue dinosaur.”

It worked for three seconds.

Then Callum, helpful as ever, added, “I heard Miss Ivy say please. A lot.”

Leo dropped a box of pasta a little too hard, laughing. Somehow, he found this whole scenario hilarious. Like it was for his entertainment. 

I sat down at the kitchen island because standing had become dangerous. The chair was cold through my skirt. I crossed my ankles tightly and kept my knees together. 

Every shift reminded me I was bare underneath. 

Leo filled a pot with water. His back muscles moved. The bite mark moved with them. I couldn't look away.

“Alvin,” he said suddenly, casual as asking about the weather. “Does he cook for you?”

My head snapped up. “Don’t.”

Callum looked between us. “Who’s Alvin?”

“No one,” I said at the same time Leo said, “A friend of Miss Ivy’s. You should ask her.”

Callum accepted that with a shrug and started listing the cheeses he wanted in his macaroni. Leo listened, nodded, asked follow-up questions like a man who had done this a thousand times.

I watched his hands.

Those same strong, veiny hands had yanked my skirt up. Torn my panties. Held me off the floor. Planted my palms on a headboard.

Now they were carefully opening a bag of shredded cheese. Bastard. 

“You’re staring, Miss Lennon,” he said without looking at me.

“I’m not.”

“You are.” He glanced over his shoulder, eyes dark with amusement. “Trying to decide if the lesson stuck?”

Callum tilted his head. “What lesson?”

“Nothing,” I said.

“Responsibility,” Leo offered smoothly. “Miss Ivy and I were discussing… consequences.”

I could have killed him. I should have. 

The water started to boil. The kitchen filled with ordinary sounds. A child talking. A pot lid. The fridge opening. And underneath all of it, my body kept reporting the truth.

My phone buzzed in my hand. Alvin.

The name on the screen made my stomach drop so fast I thought I might be sick. I flipped it face down on the counter. I can't do this. 

Leo saw it anyway.

He didn’t say the name this time. He didn’t have to. He just looked at the phone, then at my face, then at the place on his shoulder where my teeth had been, and smiled like a man who had all the time in the world.

“Lunch first,” he said. “Then you and I can finish that conversation about your… itch.”

Callum beamed. “Miss Ivy, you’re staying, right? Daddy makes the best mac and cheese.”

I looked at the child. Then at the man. Then at the mark. “Yes,” I heard myself say. “I’m staying.”

I didn’t know if that was a promise or a mistake. My legs were still weak.

And Leo, damn him, looked like he knew it.

Then out of nowhere, Callum studied me for a few seconds, then pointed. “Miss Ivy, you have a mark right there. On your neck. Just like daddy.” 

I nearly passed out.