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“Sounds like there’s a story there,” I’m rubbing her wrists. Her hands are both bandaged, but there’s still a lot of tension in her body. So much tension for one woman. I run my hands over her skin, gently massaging her.
“It’s a long one,” she manages to smile, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes.
“I’ve got time,” I say, and she hesitates for a minute. Then Fiona seems to make up her mind and she nods.
“All right,” she tells me. She closes her eyes, but keeps sitting upright as I touch her. My hands move up her forearms and to her shoulders. Finally, I climb on the bed and sit behind her.
“All the better to massage you with, my dear,” I murmur, but she doesn’t get my Little Red Riding Hood reference, which is just as well. I don’t want her to actually think I’m the big, bad wolf.
I want her to trust me, to find comfort in me.
“My family has lofty goals for me,” she says. “Or did, rather. I don’t know…you know, I don’t know if they’re alive, Quinn.”
“One thing at a time, baby,” I whisper. “Just tell me about your job, okay?”
“They think it’s stupid,” she says. “I’m working at this company and I’m going to school at night to get some certifications so I can do more upper-level stuff within the organization.”
“That sounds pretty incredible to me,” I say, impressed she’s able to manage all of that.
“My father wanted me to quit and come work for him at his organization. Darin, too. My mother just does whatever the two of them say, so it was a no-brainer for her. Of course I should quit and go work with dad. Of course.”
“What does his company do?”
“Exactly the opposite of what I do,” she says. “I help people immigrate and find affordable housing. My father runs a construction company whose goal is to keep costs as high as possible on Mirroean. They want to make it difficult for poor people to live there. Hell, they want to make it difficult for poor people to even move there.”
Fiona relaxes back against me, and I run my hands up and down her arms. It’s all I can d
o to keep from kissing her hair, but I’m trying to have some semblance of self-control here.
She just smells so amazing. She’s so soft, so sweet.
She’s perfect.
The towel barely covers her breasts. The fabric has slipped down so the only part of her that’s still covered are her tiny little nipples.
“Um, Quinn?” She says, shifting between my legs, and now it’s my turn to blush because I know exactly what she’s noticed. My cock is pressing against her back and it’s hard as a rock because Fiona? Fiona is fucking fantastic.
“Yes, Fiona?” I should apologize and get off the bed. I should stop rubbing her shoulders and leave. I should give her some time to herself. I should be a good man, but I won’t.
I’m not a good man.
That’s not who I am.
“I…um…I need to use the bathroom,” she finally says, and quickly scoots off the bed. In the process, her towel falls, and I don’t hide the way I’m looking at her body. Her face is pink, and at first I think it’s with embarrassment, but I can smell her. She can’t hide her true feelings from me. Not this time.
No, the little human is aroused, and she’s looking right at my cock.
For a minute, I just watch her looking at me. Her tongue darts out and licks her bottom lip, moistening it, and I wonder what she tastes like.
Strawberries, I bet.
Or peaches.
Fruit.
I bet Fiona tastes like ripe, delicious fruit.
Suddenly, though, she seems to realize what she’s doing, and she turns and darts into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.
