Page 100 of Brassy Bigwig

“I—don’t presume to think you still know who I am. It’s been over a year since I left you. An entire year is a lot of time for… for…”

Nothing she says is going to make me believe she’s different. That she’s changed in just a year’s time. That she’s not the same exact cold-hearted bitch she was when she left. Even if she has, that ship has sailed. Chloe is my life now. My anchor. I used to think it was Emilia, but I was wrong.

Chloe keeps me grounded, whereas Emilia was trying to drown me.

“You can’t even pretend to be sorry. A narcissist can’t admit when they’re at fault because they truly don’t believe they have any.”

“Stop that,” she reprimands, catching the attention of the people at the table next to us. “You’re causing a scene.”

“You’re exactly the same miserable, insufferable, cunt you’ve always been. You’ll never change because you don’t want to. And for the first time, being around you doesn’t make me feel sorry for myself. It makes me feel sorry for you.”

She looks like I slapped her across the face.

“Listen, you’ve already taken up significantly more time than I wanted to sacrifice for you. You want to blackmail me because you’re a petty bitch? Go right ahead. Say whatever you want to say to whoever you think will listen. I know and trust in my truth. Can you say the same?”

With a final piercing glance, I stand up from the table and walk away, leaving Emilia and her manipulative games behind.

For good.

* * *

Chloe is asleep when I get home. I take a quick shower before crawling into bed next to her. The moment my body relaxes, she curls herself up against me, her ass to my dick.

So much for being relaxed.

My cock stiffens as her ass grazes it through my boxer briefs. I look around the shadowed room and debate whether to wake her up or not. Deciding to test the waters, I wrap my arm around her and gently place my hand on her stomach. I run my fingers over her warm skin, down toward the area where her thighs meet, waiting to make contact with the fabric of her panties so I can slide underneath. But I never do.

Because she isn’t wearing any.

Inching my fingers farther, the heat intensifies as I reach her core. I dip one finger through her slit and am pleased to find she’s not entirely dry. A barely audible moan catches in her throat as my fingertip connects with her clit. Slowly and gently, I move the tip of my finger back and forth, waiting for her reaction.

When she doesn’t wake up or make any more noises, I run my finger through her slit once more. I’m a little less careful this time around, hoping she will wake up and join me. My cock twitches as the beginning of another moan sounds. I run my finger along her slit several more times, gathering additional moisture and circling her clit each time. Then her hips begin to shift forward and backward.

“Chloe,” I whisper in her ear, knowing she may not be able to hear me. “I want to make you come in your sleep. I want you to wake up moaning, writhing, coming all over my fingers.”

Her only answer is increased hip movement. It urges me on.

This time, I dip my fingers inside of her. Swirling them around, I feel more arousal building, waiting for its turn to slither out between her legs and seep into the cotton sheets. I hear her breathing increase, and she squeezes her legs together, compressing my fingers inside of her. I use the added pressure and increase my motions.

This time, a loud, unmistakable moan escapes her lips. Her hips gather more speed, and before long, I’m no longer finger-fucking her pussy. Instead, she’s fucking my fingers of her own accord. As I begin to wonder if she’s awake now, I hear a strangled whisper.

“D…”

She reaches down and clamps her hand around my wrist, as though she’s afraid I’m going to pull out of her.

“Fuck my fingers, Chloe. Make yourself come.”

Not missing a beat, she thrusts her hips faster as she guides my hand in and out of her pussy. I know the moment she’s about to come because I feel her inner walls clenching my fingers tight once again. A second later, my hand is coated in warmth as her orgasm bursts out of her.

Slowly, I remove my fingers, and she rolls over onto her back. Now adjusted to the darkness, my eyes catch hers, and I see need gleaming in them. I place my hand between her legs again, but this time she stops me.

“What is it, théa?”

“I… I want…”

“Don’t be afraid to tell me what you need. Whatever it is, I’ll give it to you.”

My words give her the confidence she needs. She sits up and pushes me down onto the mattress. It’s then I realize she’s not asking me for something, she’s telling me. Her confidence makes my cock ache.

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