Chapter 21
TWENTY-ONE
KOR
Was Vivienne wearing panties? I didn’t think she was. I was sure she wasn’t wearing a bra.
I was sitting on the barstool at the kitchen island again, watching her cook. I’d offered to help—I’m not a bad cook, I had to learn after my mom died. It was either that or live on spaghetti and tacos, which was all my dad knew how to make. But Vivienne had shaken her head when I offered to help.
“No, no—you sit right there. I like cooking,” she told me. “Just keep me company and make some conversation.”
So we talked and she cooked, and I watched her—which is what she really wanted, I think. With another woman, I might have felt bad, ogling her body this way. But I got the strong feeling that Vivienne wanted to be looked at—that she was enjoying letting me watch her.
Why else would she be wearing that dress?
It wasn’t as skimpy as the bikini, but it came close, I thought.
The top was low cut and showed so much cleavage I could almost see her nipples.
The hem fell just below her luscious ass, and it had a tendency to ride up when she reached up for something or when she bent over—say, to check the potatoes which were cooking in the oven—which she’d already done multiple times.
Whenever she bent over, I got a look at her bare ass and when she parted her thighs, I could see just a hint of the dark curls covering her pussy mound.
The sight was making me half crazy—I was beginning to wonder if I should excuse myself to go to the bathroom to jerk off.
But I didn’t want to miss a single minute of the private show Vivienne was putting on for me.
I loved watching the way her full breasts swayed and jiggled when she moved and catching glimpses of that forbidden area between her thighs.
It occurred to me that she’d probably been sexually repressed her whole life and now she was making up for lost time—not that I minded.
It was flattering, honestly—clearly, she felt I was a safe person to show her sexuality to.
That was huge with survivors of assault—I knew that from my therapy sessions with Jennie.
At last, she got everything finished and it was time to plate up. But Vivienne was apparently having trouble reaching the plates she wanted.
“Oh, damn it!” I heard her mutter as she stood on her tiptoes and reached for the stack of China on the top shelf of the kitchen cabinets.
“Need some help?” I slid out of my chair and came to stand right behind her.
“I just can’t…can’t reach these,” she panted.
But I noticed she was pressing back against me and her sundress had ridden up so that her bare ass was rubbing against my rigid cock, which was pressing against the front of my trousers.
Every time she jumped, the front of her dress came further down, until I could see right down to where her bare nipples were poking out the top.
Fuck, she was so damn tempting! But I did my best to keep from doing anything that would upset or frighten her.
“Let me help, baby,” I said, the endearment slipping out by accident.
I leaned against her a little, letting her feel my chest against her back and my cock branding her ass, and reached for the elusive plates.
“Is two enough?” I murmured in her ear.
“Oh, uh…yes. Yes, two should work,” she said, sounding breathless.
“Two it is,” I said, but I lingered for a minute, our bodies pressed together, before I put the two plates down on the counter in front of her.
“Thank you.” She turned to face me, and I saw how red her cheeks were.
But her eyes were bright, and she wasn’t trying to get away.
In fact, she pressed against me, her full breasts rubbing against my bare chest. I could feel the tight points of her nipples teasing me.
Did she like this little game we were playing?
I thought she did. And what’s more—I liked it too. I never wanted it to end.
I had no idea how far the game would go…
or what the consequences would be, or I might have tried to stop it then and there.
But I didn’t know—I only knew I loved the feeling of her soft, curvy body pressed against mine…
the way I could see her nipples peeking out at me from the top of her sundress…
the way I could tell she wasn’t wearing panties and the way the scent of her pussy told me how hot and wet she was.
No, I didn’t want to stop…but I should have.
I would regret it later.