Chapter 5
Later that afternoon, we finally left the safe house.
Layla had put on a light, flowy summer dress — the kind that hugged her curves and swished around her thighs with every step.
No bra. Just the dress and a pair of sandals.
She looked effortlessly beautiful, and I couldn’t stop touching her as we walked to the car.
We drove to the local grocery store together. Word had apparently spread fast in the small town — the new young married couple had arrived. Several people waved or smiled at us as we walked in. An older woman even stopped us near the entrance.
“You must be the Thompsons! Welcome to the neighborhood. You two are just the cutest newlyweds.”
Layla blushed and leaned into my side, playing the part perfectly. I wrapped my arm around her waist and kissed the top of her head.
“Thank you,” I said with an easy smile. “We’re still getting settled, but everyone’s been really kind.”
We moved through the aisles like a real couple. I kept my hand on her lower back or hip the entire time. Layla stayed close, occasionally rising on her toes to kiss my cheek or lips when someone was watching. It was all part of the act… but it was starting to feel less like acting.
At one point, while I was reaching for pasta, she pressed herself against my back and whispered, “Husband,” with a shy little smile.
I turned, pulled her in, and kissed her properly on the lips — soft but lingering. To anyone watching, we were just a lovey-dovey newlywed couple. No one suspected the truth.
We filled the cart with real food — fresh vegetables, meat, spices, everything the safe house had been missing. Layla stayed in character the whole time, calling me “babe” or “honey” in that sweet voice, letting me pick her up to reach something on a high shelf. I loved how natural it felt.
By the time we got back to the car, my hand was on her ass as I loaded the bags, and she was kissing me again — this time deeper, in the parking lot where anyone could see.
We were selling the married act perfectly.
And I was starting to wonder how much of it was still an act.
We decided to stop for lunch at a small local diner on the way back from the grocery store. The place was classic — red booths, checkered floors, and the smell of coffee and grease. We slid into a booth together, Sophie sitting close enough that her thigh pressed against mine.
The waitress, a friendly middle-aged woman with a name tag that read “Barb,” came over with menus and a big smile.
“Well, aren’t you two just the cutest thing,” she said, looking between us. “Newlyweds, right? I can always spot ‘em. You got that glow. Any kids yet?”
Sophie blushed beautifully. I slid my hand under the table and rested it high on her thigh, slowly sliding it under the hem of her sundress.
“Not yet,” I said with an easy smile, my fingers brushing higher. “But I tried really hard this morning.”
Sophie’s breath hitched. Under the table, my fingers found her bare pussy — she wasn’t wearing panties — and I started stroking her slowly. She bit her lip, trying to keep a straight face as Barb laughed.
“Oh, you two are adorable! Well, when it happens, you’ll make beautiful babies. What can I get you lovebirds?”
I kept teasing Sophie under the table as we ordered — slow circles on her clit, dipping a finger inside her every so often. She was soaked. Her hand gripped my thigh tightly, and she managed to order a sandwich in a slightly shaky voice.
When Barb walked away, Sophie leaned into me, her face flushed.
“Ryder…” she whispered, voice needy.
I kissed her temple and kept playing with her, my fingers moving faster under the table.
“Be a good wife and stay quiet, sweetheart,” I murmured. “We’re in public.”
She whimpered softly, her thighs trembling as I brought her closer to the edge while we waited for our food. To everyone else in the diner, we just looked like a happy, affectionate newlywed couple.
No one had any idea what I was doing to her under the table.
Our food arrived just as I slid two fingers deep inside her under the table. Layla bit her lip hard, trying to keep a straight face as the waitress set down our plates.
“Enjoy your meal, lovebirds,” Barb said with a wink before walking away.
I didn’t stop. I slowly pumped my fingers in and out of her soaked pussy while I casually picked up a fry and held it to her lips.
“Open,” I murmured, my voice low and playful.
Layla opened her mouth, taking the fry as I curled my fingers inside her. She nearly moaned around the food.
“Good girl,” I whispered, feeding her another bite while my thumb circled her clit under the table. “Eat up. You’re going to need your energy.”
A couple from a nearby table came over — an older man and woman who introduced themselves as the Hendersons from down the street. They were friendly and chatty, asking about how we were settling in.
I kept my fingers buried inside Layla the entire time, slowly thrusting and rubbing her clit as I smiled and answered their questions.
“We’re loving it so far,” I said smoothly, feeding Layla another bite of her sandwich with my free hand. “Right, sweetheart?”
Layla nodded, her voice slightly shaky. “Y-yes… it’s great here.”
I pushed my fingers deeper, rubbing that spot inside her that made her thighs tremble. She was getting close — I could feel it in the way her pussy clenched around my fingers.
The Hendersons kept talking about the best local spots and how happy they were to have new young people in town. I kept playing with her under the table, my expression calm and friendly while I pushed her closer and closer to the edge.
When they finally walked away, I leaned in and whispered in her ear, “Cum for me, Layla. Right now.”
She came hard, her walls fluttering around my fingers as she tried to stay quiet. Her whole body tensed, and she had to bury her face in my shoulder for a second to hide her expression.
I slowly pulled my fingers out and licked them clean under the table, giving her a wicked little smirk.
“Such a good wife,” I murmured. “Now finish your lunch.”