Chapter 1
The Blackwood Estates. It was half past eleven at night, and the villa was brightly lit. A few servants were still tidying up in the grand hall when Clara Winter quietly slipped through the door, carrying the coolness of the night air with her. “Uncle Alfred, is my godfather back yet?” Clara whispered as she caught sight of Alfred the Steward nearby. “Miss Clara, you startled me!” Alfred said with a laugh. “Mr. Blackwood is still out; he has a late engagement tonight.” “Make sure to say I’m asleep if he comes back,” Clara replied, feeling a wave of relief wash over her as she dashed upstairs to her bedroom, eager to wash away the smell of smoke and alcohol. Her godfather meant well, but he had strict rules. He didn’t mind her going out, but he absolutely forbade her from being out past ten. If he found out she snuck off to a club, she would be in serious trouble. Just when she thought she had managed to dodge him, Julian Blackwood walked in. He immediately noticed that Clara's bedroom light was still on. Throwing his coat over to Alfred, he headed upstairs and asked, “Where's Clara?” “She’s asleep, sir,” Alfred answered, looking down, but Julian didn’t buy it. “Has she been sneaking out again?” Julian’s tone was cool as ice. Alfred’s awkward chuckle gave way to nervous explanations. “Well, actually, Miss Clara doesn’t go out as often as it seems…” “Looks like we have a repeat offender on our hands,” Julian said, his voice low and measured, his mood palpable even without more words. Without hesitation, Julian opened Clara's bedroom door. She wasn't in bed; instead, she was seated at her desk, engrossed in her homework and oblivious to his approach. Her lamp cast a warm glow as she chewed on her pencil, deeply focused. Julian leaned in slightly closer, drawn in by the scent of the body wash she used, but when he got near enough, he caught the unmistakable smell of smoke in her hair. His gaze darkened for a moment before he whispered softly into her ear, “Studying so hard? Trying to impress your godfather?” The richness of his voice sent an electric jolt through Clara, and she flushed bright red. “God…Godfather, how did you get in without a sound?” she stammered, backing up slightly, clearly flustered. Julian didn’t reply. Instead, he moved to the nearby sofa and took a seat. An unsettling tension filled the air, and despite his silence, Clara felt a sudden wave of trepidation wash over her. “Come over here. I want to ask you something,” he commanded, patting the seat beside him. Clara hesitated but trudged over to where he indicated. The dim light of the room enveloped her, and she realized she was only in a thin, comfortable nightgown. She didn’t notice how it fitted closely, subtly revealing her growing figure. Time had transformed the little girl who once trailed behind him into a young woman with curves that were impossible to ignore. “Take both hands out,” Julian said, his voice suddenly serious as he loosened his tie. Clara's heart raced, feeling like a trapped child caught in a moment of mischief. Gulping, she looked down, her voice small. “Godfather, I know I messed up… I won’t sneak out again…” “I told you before, disobedient children are punished,” Julian replied with icy detachment, not joking in the least. Clara found herself half-leaning over the sofa as he lifted her nightgown with a swift motion.
Chapter 2
Julian Blackwood couldn't help but notice Clara Winter's supple and well-toned figure as she knelt before him. With her innocent, baby-blue bear-patterned underwear peeking out from between her thighs, the sight was almost too much for him. Clara, red-faced and desperate, tried to wriggle free from Julian's grip, unaware of how her movements appeared to the adult man observing her. "Godfather... Godfather... please, don't..." Clara's voice trembled as she pleaded, but each attempt to escape was met with a firm press of Julian's hand. His eyes darkened with resolve, and he delivered a sharp smack to her tender backside. "If I don't discipline you, you'll never learn," he warned. The next swats landed with a firm yet controlled force. Julian was careful, but Clara's delicate skin quickly turned red and swollen. "I understand... Godfather... it hurts," Clara sniffled, tears streaming down her cheeks. "I won't do it again." Hearing her sobs, Julian's heart softened. He rarely resorted to physical punishment and immediately regretted it. Gently, he stroked Clara's head, his touch now more soothing than stern. "There, there, stop crying. Clara, when your parents passed away, they entrusted you to me. It's my duty to care for you, even if it means being strict sometimes. I won't ask where you snuck off to tonight, but this can't happen again. Do you understand?" Clara nodded, her big, tear-filled eyes searching for understanding. "Godfather, I don't dislike you..." Julian was momentarily taken aback by her innocent gaze. His eyes drifted lower, noticing the loose neckline of her nightgown exposing a significant portion of her pale chest. Quickly, he averted his gaze. "Clara, in the future, no matter where you are, you must be properly dressed," Julian instructed firmly. "But can't I dress comfortably at home?" Clara asked, still not grasping the gravity of the situation. Julian reached out, adjusting her nightgown collar, his fingers grazing her soft cleavage. "What if there's a guest in the house? How would it look if they saw you like this?" Realizing the implication, Clara's face flushed as she covered her chest, her heart pounding erratically. Julian's touch had sent an electric shiver down her spine. "It's late. Go to bed," Julian said, turning to leave. Clara quickly pointed to her cheek, and Julian chuckled at her silent request. Leaning down, he planted a light kiss on her forehead. "Goodnight, Clara." After her parents' sudden death, Clara had moved into Julian's Manor House where she struggled with sleepless nights. Julian had discovered this early on and, regardless of his workload, always made time to comfort her, reading bedtime stories and giving a goodnight kiss. This routine had become a cherished habit for Clara. Once Julian left the room and the door clicked shut, Clara collapsed onto the couch in satisfaction, her heart still racing. What was she to do? Just a touch from her godfather had her feeling warm and tingly all over. How could she resist the longing desire growing within her, craving more of Julian’s touch?
Chapter 3
Julian Blackwood was a man who had no shortage of women in his life, yet he remained alone. As Clara Winter grew older, her unease deepened. She knew just how charming her guardian could be, and the very thought of him one day bringing home a stranger to whom she would have to call "stepmother" made her stomach churn. She couldn't take it any longer. Julian Blackwood had some paperwork left to finish, so he returned to his bedroom. Just as he sat down, a knock echoed through the door. "Uncle Julian, it's me," came Clara Winter's soft voice. He let her in. "What are you still doing up?" "I wanted to wash my hair again, but the light in my bathroom is out. Can I use yours, Uncle Julian?" "Go ahead, just make sure to get to bed afterward," he said with a nod, refocusing on his work, oblivious to Clara's scheming thoughts. In the bathroom mirror, Clara’s image was reflected clearly. She had a sweet, youthful charm, her cheeks still holding a bit of baby fat that made her smile innocent and endearing. Yet beneath that facade, her figure was alluring: a tiny waist, long legs, and, notably, an impressive bust that seemed to defy gravity. The soft pink of her nipples was subtly enticing, and every movement sent a shiver down her spine. She turned on the shower, not bothering to shed her nightgown. Water cascaded over her, soaking her hair and clinging to her body. Once wet, the fabric of her nightgown became sheer, accentuating her curves and revealing every contour of her figure. After some time, Julian glanced at his watch. It had been nearly half an hour, and there was no sound from Clara. He shut his files and strode to the bathroom door, knocking lightly. "Clara?" Silence met his question. Worry prickled at him. "Clara!" he called out, now more urgent. A muffled groan came from inside, but there was no response. He swung the door open and rushed in. There, on the wet floor, Clara lay, completely soaked, as if she had slipped. "What happened? Let me see," Julian exclaimed as he crouched beside her, gently taking her delicate foot in his hands to check her ankle, which was red and swollen. Clara let out a soft grunt, feeling the warmth of her guardian's large hands envelop her cold foot, and it brought an odd sense of comfort. "Did I hurt you?" he asked, concern etched on his face. She shook her head, her lips pale. "I'm fine, Uncle Julian. I just slipped." "Don’t move. I’ll carry you out and get some medicine," he insisted, reaching down to lift her. "But Uncle Julian, I only washed half my hair…” she protested softly. His attention was drawn to her watery state. The thin nightgown clung to her body, highlighting her ample breasts and the tantalizing curve of her hips. The fabric, nearly transparent when wet, left little to the imagination. When she shifted, the gentle bounce of her bosom was a sight that could draw anyone in. The hem of her nightgown had ridden up, revealing her long, smooth legs, and the delicate lace of her underwear was clearly visible. Though a layer of fabric still remained, the moment felt far more provocative than if she were entirely unclothed. Without thinking, he was lost in the scene, his gaze lingering a beat too long. Suddenly, a thought struck him. This wasn't right. He needed to maintain a boundary, but the allure of the moment tugged at his resolve as he helped her to her feet, bracing himself for the uneasy reality that lay ahead.
Chapter 4
Clara Winter could still feel the remnants of the white foam on her neck. Julian Blackwood caught his breath, suddenly aware that the delicate girl in his arms was a dilemma he could neither hold onto nor let go of. "Godfather, can you help me rinse off? I feel so sticky and uncomfortable," she said. Clara looked up at him with wide, innocent eyes, resembling a lost little animal, making it impossible for him to say no. Julian took a deep breath as he lifted Clara from the ground. She was too weak to put any weight on one leg, collapsing into his embrace. He felt the warmth of her soft body against him, and his hand found its way to her waist, but even that slight touch sent a rush of sensations through him. He turned on the shower, directing the spray over Clara's body, careful not to let his fingers inadvertently brush her skin. With his eyes squeezed shut, it seemed he had never looked down at her once. "All done, I'll grab some clothes for you to change into in a moment," Julian said in his usual detached tone, his lips pressed tightly together, revealing no disturbance from the present situation. He figured this calmness was only possible if he viewed her as a little girl. What if she took things a bit further? "Godfather, your abdomen is really hard," she remarked, her delicate fingers lightly trailing across his stomach, sending ripples of anticipation through him. Julian quickly covered her roaming hand with his own, his voice stern. "Clara Winter, don’t be inappropriate." Clara, undaunted, looked him in the eye and challenged him, "If this is inappropriate, then what about this?" Before he could react, she stood on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to the corner of Julian’s mouth. She feared his disapproval, but the closeness was too tempting to resist. The gentle kiss sparked an unexpected warmth, as if electricity surged between them. That brief touch left Clara feeling utterly weak in the knees. Julian's eyes flew open in shock, but Clara had already taken a step back, creating some distance between them. She blinked innocently, as if she hadn’t just crossed a line. He swallowed hard, hesitating as a response flickered in his throat, but ultimately he chose silence. Julian grabbed a towel from nearby and wrapped it around Clara, a chill suddenly filling the air. She noticed the shift and fell quiet, letting him carry her back to her room. He placed a clean outfit beside her, careful and gentle. Because of Clara’s background, Julian had always tended to indulge her, hardly ever reprimanding her, let alone scolding her. She cautiously raised her head, her hair still dripping. "Godfather, are you mad at me?" Julian finally spoke, his voice softening a bit. "If you know that it would upset me, then you shouldn't do it again." His dark eyes held a depth that concealed any tumultuous emotions within. Clara Winter bit her lip, silence coating her expression, making her look pitiful. Julian’s expression relaxed slightly, but still maintained an air of coldness. "Dry your hair before you go to bed." Once he exited the room, Clara threw herself onto the bed, curling into a ball. He was definitely angry; otherwise, he would have helped her dry her hair before leaving. Clara licked her lips, relishing the memory of that kiss. She felt no regret at all. And...she wanted more.
Chapter 5
Clara Winter woke up much later than usual, her hair a wild mess, her face pale and drawn—as if she were suffering from a deep exhaustion. As she looked into the mirror, her reflection startled her. But it wasn't entirely her fault. She had spent the night lost in a vivid dream, one that had stirred her in ways she couldn't fully grasp. She could barely remember the details, only that it had been thrilling—her stepdad had figured prominently, and she had felt excitement coursing through her veins as she imagined him embracing her. Yet, just when it felt real, she had woken up, leaving all the details slipping away like sand through her fingers. Frustrating! It was such a rare occurrence, a dream like that, and to wake up and forget its nuances was infuriating. Clara had just finished her milk and slammed the glass down onto the kitchen table, making a loud noise that caught Alfred's attention. Alfred the Steward, always around to keep an eye on her, mistakenly thought her irritation was about Julian Blackwood's unexpected work trip. "Your stepdad is away," he said, trying to read her emotions. "Really?" she replied, baffled. "Yeah, he mentioned he'd be gone for three to five days." Clara had never been good at being alone. Growing up without her biological parents had left her with a profound sense of insecurity, and the expansive mansion they lived in felt overwhelming when Julian Blackwood wasn’t around. He had always been there to gradually let her lower her guard, giving her a unique bond she craved. Julian had always been protective of her, even in the office where she often came to visit him. He didn't mind her presence, unlike others. He would soothe her to sleep at night, telling her stories, and even when away for work, he made sure to inform her about his travels to ease her worries. But now, she was the last to know he was leaving. The following night, well past dinner time, Julian Blackwood was still buried in his work, his stomach began to ache from neglect. It wasn’t until his assistant nudged him to take some antacids that he finally paused to check his phone. Seeing the empty messages from Clara struck him—a wave of disappointment washed over him. Clara Winter, who usually inundated him with messages about everything from her meals to her day, hadn’t reached out once since he left. He pondered the previous night’s events, realizing that perhaps he had been a bit too forceful. Clara was still just a girl, orphaned at a young age, and her dependence on him stemmed from that lack of stability. He hoped that as she matured, she would understand their relationship better. Nevertheless, the image of her—her soft curves and delicate figure—was imprinted in his mind. The way she breathed, so sweet and inviting, stirred something deep within him. Julian rubbed his forehead, feeling a rush of conflicting emotions. He thought to himself how odd it was that a man like him, who others deemed heartless, could feel such yearning for his stepdaughter’s well-being. Upon his return from the trip, Julian made it a point to pick up a few gifts for Clara. She had such diverse interests, yet her tastes changed constantly, making it tricky to pin down what she might like. Remembering that young girls were fond of a particular brand lately, he decided to grab a few items, leaving it to the shop attendants to wrap everything up. As the gifts piled up in the corner of The Golden Inn room, the stack resembled a small mountain of luxury. Lord William, meeting Julian to finalize a contract, couldn’t hide his surprise. “Wow, Julian! You really went all out here. Is this for someone special?” he teased. Julian, known for his lack of public relationships, tried to appear nonchalant. “It’s for my daughter,” he replied coolly. “Your daughter? I didn’t know you had one,” Lord William chortled. Julian's amusement was scant as he replied, half-smiling, “She’s in her rebellious teenage years, so it’s a bit tricky.” “Ah, girls can be tough. A few kind words from you and I’m sure she’ll be wrap around your finger,” Lord William jested. Julian couldn’t help but chuckle along with him, even though he knew he had a heck of a lot more to learn about managing her moods.
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