Page 120 of Insta-Family (Forbidden Descendants 3)

“Lucy,” I started, closing my eyes. “You don’t have to say that just to make me feel better.”

“Trust me.” She sniffed bitterly. “I’m not.” When I opened my eyes to give her a questioning glance, she lifted her eyebrows, motioning me silent. “So just shut up and listen.”

“It’s okay—” I tried to tell her. I wouldn’t mention my issues about it again. She did not have to do this.

“At his going away party,” she started, done arguing with my protests. “I stepped outside for a few minutes to get some fresh air. It was kind of chilly inside, and the outside heat felt nice. Until Duke found me out there by myself. He did his typical horndog flirting thing, which I blew off like I usually did. But then he turned serious on me all of a sudden and nearly started crying, telling me he probably wasn’t even going to survive the month. He seemed pretty upset about the idea of never getting to have sex again. He wasn’t even sure how long he’d be able to still get aroused.”

Lucy shrugged and sent me an apologetic cringe. “At first, I didn’t know if he was pulling one over on me or not. He seemed like the jokester type who would lie like that to get what he wanted.”

“Yeah,” I mumbled regretfully and sniffed. “He really was.”

She pointed as if grateful I agreed, but then she said, “I couldn’t be sure, though. I mean, he was leaving work because he’d gone on hospice. He had to be dying sometime.”

As soon as she said that, she winced and paused, whispering, “Sorry.”

I lifted a hand and shook it, letting her know she hadn’t been insensitive, not in my book, anyway.

“When he asked if I’d come home with him, I felt extremely put on the spot. I thought I’d be a terrible person if I told him no. So…” She closed her eyes and shook her head.

“I followed him home in my car. Inside, he led me through the house in the dark and didn’t turn on a light until we were in the room with the door shut, and he never mentioned anything about living with anyone.” She rolled her eyes. “Though, now that I’m looking back, it would’ve been strange for him to be living alone at a time like that, huh?”

I didn’t know what to say, so I just sat there.

And Lucy, unfortunately, picked the story up where she’d left off.

“He ignored me as he went straight to the bed and collapsed on his back with a groan as if he were exhausted. I stood at the door, feeling awkward and almost unwelcome. And when he opened his eyes and looked at me, I saw these dark rings around them that I’d never noticed before. He looked so sunken and frail; it was the first time

he ever actually appeared to be terminally ill to me. I just wanted to turn around and run.”

Lucy looked down as if ashamed and started to pick at her fingernails.

When she looked up, her smile was miserable and apologetic. And for the first time since she’d started her account, I wanted to know what had put that look there.

“He asked me if I would be on top,” she said, her voice wavering. “And I felt trapped, like there was no way I could back out at that point. So I told him that was fine, and I inched uncomfortably toward the bed. He sent me a small, half-grateful smile and unzipped his jeans while he continued to lay on his back on the bed. He didn’t remove his pants or shirt or a single article of clothing. He just pushed his underwear down enough to pull his dick out, and he started to masturbate.”

I frowned. “But he was stark-ass naked the next morning,” I argued.

Lucy sighed and rolled her eyes my way, dryly mumbling, “Oh, I’ll get there.”

I winced.

“There was no touching between us beforehand,” she assured. “He stroked himself until he was hard, while I stood by the bed, pretending I was anywhere but there. I mostly just stared at the posters of the half-naked women on his walls. And then, once he was ready, he told me I could climb on.”

I’m not sure what my expression looked like, but it must’ve mirrored how horrified I felt for her because she covered her face with both hands and groaned. “I know! Please stop looking at me like that.”

But I couldn’t help it; I exploded, “That was his form of foreplay? Seriously? Just climb on? Jesus, Duke.” I ran my hand through my hair, suddenly wishing I’d taught him how to treat women better.

“I’m sorry,” Lucy was the one who gushed, though. “I was so nervous and uncomfortable the whole time. Whenever he coughed, I kept expecting him to hack up blood or half a lung or something. But I mostly just prayed he couldn’t keep an erection up and would want to stop. Except it didn’t go down, and I felt doomed.”

I blew out a breath, half hoping she’d stop the story there, but also hoping she’d finish so I could get over the terrible wondering I was having.

Her voice began to shake even more unsteadily than before. “He asked me if I’d take my shirt off, so I did. But I never removed my bra or the skirt I was wearing. I just kind of slid my panties off under it so he couldn’t see anything, and I climbed onto his, uh…you know.”

I closed my eyes and nodded because, yeah, I knew.

“He didn’t touch me anywhere,” she said, her voice soft. “In fact, he closed his eyes through the whole thing and grabbed the sheets next to him as if he was imagining I was someone else.”

Hugging herself as the memories wracked her, she began to rock gently as she told me, “And the only place I touched him was there, so I could fit us together. All the while, I felt so bad, like I should pretend I was having more fun than I was, so he could have a memorable last time. But I just couldn’t fake it. It was too weird and uncomfortable. I just…”

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