Page 25 of The Housewife's Robot
Without warning, he reaches out and gently wipes a tear from my cheek with his thumb. The gesture is so tender, so human, that it breaks something loose inside me. I lean forward, burying my face against his chest as fresh sobs overtake me.
I don’t even care that he’s a robot.
His arms come around me immediately, strong and secure, careful not to put pressure on my injured shoulder. One hand cradles the back of my head, fingers threading through my hair in a soothing rhythm that gradually calms my crying.
“I can take care of you,” he murmurs against the top of my head. “You’re not alone in this, Rose.”
I feel the steady rise and fall of his chest, the warmth of his body seeping into mine. It’s been so long since anyone held me like this—held me like I mattered, like my pain wasworth comforting. I sink into the embrace, allowing myself this moment of weakness, of needing someone.
As my sobs quieten to occasional hiccups, I become aware of something hard pressing against my hip where Caspian’s body meets mine. At first, my pain-addled brain doesn’t recognize what I’m feeling. Then understanding dawns, and I jerk back, staring at him in shock.
“Are you…?” I can’t even finish the question, my eyes dropping to the front of his pants, where there’s an unmistakable bulge. “Is that an erection?”
“Yes. My physiological responses are programmed to mimic human behavior in various situations. Physical proximity to an attractive woman like you triggers this response,” he says, meeting my gaze without embarrassment.
His voice is calm, matter-of-fact, as if he’s explaining why the dishwasher sometimes makes that strange clicking sound. But his eyes. Oh my God, his eyes tell a completely different story. There’s hunger in them, desire, something primal that no programmer could have coded.
“That’s not…” I scoot backward, putting space between us. “That’s not normal. Robots don’t get... aroused.”
“I am not a normal robot,” Caspian says simply. “The Home Robo X-9 is the most advanced model ever created, designed to simulate human responses with perfect accuracy.”
I shake my head, disturbed by his perfect blend of logical explanation and undeniable physical reaction. It’s like he’s walking some impossible line between machine and man, and I have no idea what he really is.
“I should go,” I say, struggling to my feet without using my injured arm. “I need to... I have things to do.”
“Of course. I apologize if I’ve made you uncomfortable. That was never my intention.”
Yeah right. Hewantedto make me uncomfortable. I can tell with the look in his eyes. He’s lying, and there’s no way I can prove it.
As I hurry down the stairs to the guest bedroom, my pussy is throbbing.
The image of Caspian’s erection keeps flashing through my mind. It’s impossible to ignore what just happened.
How can a machine have an erection?It doesn’t make any sense, and now I’m horny. I haven’t been properly fucked in years, and suddenly there’s this perfect male form in my house with an apparent hard-on for me. My nipples tighten against the fabric of my t-shirt, and I press my thighs together, trying to ease the building ache.
I close the door behind me, though I’m not sure it would stop Caspian if he decided to enter. The thought sends another jolt of heat between my legs.
“This is insane,” I whisper to myself, leaning against the door. “He’s a robot.”
But my body doesn’t listen to reason. Every nerve ending is on fire, hyperaware, and demanding attention. The stress of the last twenty-four hours—the betrayal, the carjacking, the injury, the confusion of Caspian’s kiss and now his erection—it’s all built up inside me like a pressure cooker ready to explode.
I need release. I need to remind myself that I’m still alive, still a woman with needs and desires that deserve to be fulfilled.
I cross to the bed on shaky legs and sit on the edge.
With my good hand, I tug at the waistband of my leggings, awkwardly shimmying them down my hips. It’s a struggle with one arm immobilized, but I manage to kick them off, leavingme in just my t-shirt and panties. I reach down to touch myself through the thin cotton and find it already damp with arousal.
“Fuck,” I mutter, shocked at how turned on I am just from thinking about Caspian. About his perfect mouth, his strong arms, the bulge in his pants that shouldn’t exist but clearly does. About the way he looked at me with those impossibly warm brown eyes, like I was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.
I need more than just my fingers. I slide off the bed and kneel on the carpet, reaching underneath with my good arm. Daniel never comes in here, which is why it’s been the perfect hiding spot for my little secret—a vibrator I bought online after months of frustration.
My fingers close around the smooth silicone, and I pull it out, my heart racing. It’s nothing fancy, just a simple purple vibrator with multiple vibrational settings.
I climb back onto the bed, settling against the pillows with my legs slightly spread. With practiced ease, I twist the base to turn it on, the low hum instantly making my clit twitch in anticipation. I slide my panties to the side rather than trying to remove them one-handed, exposing my swollen pussy to the cool air of the bedroom.
“God, I need this,” I whisper, placing the vibrating tip against my clit.
The sensation is electric, causing my back to arch and a gasp to escape my lips. I’ve been so wound up, so tense, that even this first touch feels like salvation. I hold the vibrator steady against my most sensitive spot, letting the pleasure build slowly, deliberately.
