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I found out the hard way that "dealing" sucked ass.
Undressing a woman was easier than putting clothes back on. This I discovered when said woman was barely able to stand. I felt myself breaking out in a sweat after dragging and yanking the gray yoga pants up her long sexy legs. At least the bottom half of her was covered, I reasoned after I'd finished.
But the top half of her was about to get uncovered, because I had to remove the robe to put a shirt on her. There was a twinge of guilt at seeing her bare breasts…but not that much. It was a clear case of sorry, not sorry.
Fuuuuck, she had beautiful tits.
Full and round, tipped with rosy nipples just begging for my mouth, and other things. Clamped, dappled in melted wax, artfully bound—I could picture everything—ready for my reawakening cock.
I remembered well the first and only time I'd seen them before tonight. Her fifteenth birthday party when Janice, Caleb's psycho ex, ripped off Winter's bathing suit top in the pool. God, I'd hated how much it had embarrassed her. I'd comforted her to the best I was able in a situation with people all around us, but I'd never forgotten how gorgeous she was even then. How could I ever forget?
The past nine years had only served to form her beauty into a more perfect version with maturity. She moaned and fluttered her eyes open as I struggled with the pink T-shirt. "You're looking at my boobs," she muttered at me.
"That couldn't be helped, sweetheart," I said right back. "And for the record, your boobs are spectacular, and I couldn't have not looked at them unless I had no pulse."
She giggled at me.
In fact, she didn't look in the least disturbed by our topic of conversation—that she'd caught me checking out her tits and ogling them.
Crazy shit kept happening here. There was no other way to describe this night.
"Okay, shoes," I commanded.
It appeared she'd come out of her fog a bit, to the point she was able to actually help me get shoes onto her feet. The difference between helping vs. helpless was nothing short of miraculous.
"My phone is there on the bedside table. Can you turn it on for me?"
"Sure thing." I finished tying her shoes and grabbed the phone. "We should bring your ID too."
"My wallet is in my backpack…I think in the hallway." She glanced at me and then frowned as if she'd remembered something. "Oh shit! I didn't turn the oven off. I just left it."
"Good call remembering that, Win. I'll take care of the oven on our way out." I helped her up from her bed to stand against me, all soft and rumpled from my less-than-efficient dressing techniques. She looked like an exquisite goddess to me. I held her face in both hands and brought us very close—close enough to kiss her.
I wanted to.
I almost did.
At the last moment I remembered why I shouldn't…and I was fucking frustrated. God, I wish she was mine. "Let's get you to a doc who can fix your hand," I said far too harshly.
Winter didn't flinch. She held on to my eyes with hers and said two small words that made my cock jump at the sharp jolt I felt all the way to my balls.
"Yes, sir."
Was I only imagining something I wanted to believe?
But, there was no sarcasm in he
r words. Just trust…and the desire to please me?
She chose—did I dare imagine it was possible—to be submissive to me?
Winter was allowing me to take over control of care for her. Easily. There was no resistance, only willingness.
Something I'd never considered before this moment was how Winter might feel about my little secret.
What if she wanted it with me?
I didn't know the answer to that question yet, but I did know something.
