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I hold her gaze a bit longer. Then, satisfied by her response, I nod. I grab her clothes from the floor. Then I scoop her up in my arms.
"Hey, what are you doing?"
"Gonna get you cleaned up."
I carry her over to the ensuite, then lower her to the counter near the sink. I wet a towel and press it between her legs. She winces.
"I did hurt you." I frown.
"Nothing I can’t handle. I’m tougher than I look, Sto—I mean, Rick."
"As far as I’m concerned, you’re fragile and need to be taken care of."
She chuckles. "Who, me?"
I toss the towel into the basket near the sink, then help her slide into her bra. I reach around to hook it up, but she protests, "I can do it."
"So can I."
"Had much experiences with women’s lingerie?"
I raise a shoulder.
"What’s that supposed to mean?"
"That it’s common sense how to work the fastenings of a bra. Also—" I grunt as I stretch the band, then stretch it further, and finally manage to clasp the hooks. "Okay, maybe not that simple, but I succeeded."
"You did." She adjusts her tits in the bra-cups. Her movements are practiced. No doubt, she does that every time she wears her bra, but fuck, if it doesn’t jiggle her breasts. My still hard balls threaten to blow. I managed to stop myself from coming, even as I encouraged her to climax, but this casual way she handles herself is more intimate, more arousing, more...everything.
A warmth steals over my skin. I help her down from the counter, then pull out a pair of panties from my pocket and sink down on one knee and hold it out for her.”
“W-h-a-t? You were carrying an extra pair?”
I curl my lips.
“So you planned to tear off my panties?” She frowns.
“Didn’t plan on it. But also knew I wasn’t going to stop myself if I wanted to do it. I knew I wasn’t going to let you out of my sight without panties. Not when the scent of your cunt would be too freely available for anyone else to smell. And only I get to enjoy the smell of your freshly-fucked pussy.
Her eyes flash. A combination of anger and desire, which turns me on even more.
“I can’t decide if I should be angry at your presumptuousness, or moved by your thoughtfulness or—”
“—as long as my words heighten the moisture between your thighs, I’m good.”
She rolls her eyes. “I can’t even with you. Also, I can dress myself.”
"Humor me." I tilt my head, and she finally relents. She steps into her panties, gripping the top of my head for support. When she tugs on my hair, my cock instantly responds—not that it’s a surprise. Where she’s concerned, I’m in a state of permanent arousal. I slide the panties up her legs, and because I can’t stop myself, I press a kiss to her pussy lips—which makes her gasp—before I smooth the fabric over her hips. Then I hold her hips and press another kiss to her belly button.
She moans and grips my hair tighter. "What are you doing?"
"Taking care of what’s mine." I glance up to find she’s looking at me with a mixture of lust and need, and it’s never felt more right to kneel in front of a woman like this.
"I’m not yours," she reminds me.
"You’re my fiancée."
"Your fake fiancée."
