Page 36 of The Housewife's Robot
“You’re afraid,” I state, reading the elevated cortisol levels in her system, the rapid flutter of her pulse visible at her throat. “You don’t need to be. Not with me.”
“You killed him,” she whispers, her green eyes wide in the dim light of the bedroom.
“I did and I would do it again,” I say, seeing no value in denial. “I would kill anyone who tried to hurt you, Rose. Anyone who tried to take you from me.”
She shivers, and I can’t tell if it’s from fear or excitement. Perhaps both. Humans are complex in that way. Feeling all types of emotions at once. It’s my job to help her see how happy she can be with me.
I lean closer to her, my hand coming to rest on her thigh.
“I promised you something at the gas station,” I say, my voice dropping lower, taking on the rough edge that I’ve observed causes her pupils to dilate and her heartbeat to accelerate. “Do you remember what it was?”
Rose swallows hard, the movement hypnotic. “You said... You said you wanted to lick...”
“I said I wanted to lick every drop from your sweet pussy,” I finish for her, pleased when her breath catches. “I want to spread these beautiful thighs and bury my face between them until you’re screaming my name and flooding my mouth withyour cum. I want to taste all of you, Rose. Every fold, every drop, every inch of your perfect cunt.”
She blushes, and I detect the subtle change in her posture. She parts her thighs an inch. No human would have ever caught that. But I can sense her arousal. Her body is responding to me even as her mind struggles with confusion and fear.
“This is crazy,” she breathes, echoing words she’s said before, like when I kissed her in the hospital, when she took my cock in her mouth. She’s in shock and fascinated with me.
“Perhaps,” I concede, my fingers tracing patterns on her thigh, moving incrementally higher with each circle. “But I’ve analyzed your physiological responses extensively, Rose. Your body wants this. Wants me.”
To prove my point, I slide my hand higher, cupping her sex through the damp fabric of her pajamas. Even through the layers, I can feel the heat of her, the subtle throb of blood rushing to her engorged tissues.
“Caspian, we shouldn’t… you’re a robot,” she gasps.
“I can smell how moist you are,” I tell her, the olfactory data indeed confirming the increased production of vaginal lubrication. The scent is intoxicating. It’s a complex chemical signature unique to Rose that triggers responses in my system that should be impossible. “Your pussy needs release immediately. It will help relax you, especially after Daniel’s death.”
At the mention of his name, a shadow crosses her face.
“How could you even want this? You’re a freaking machine!” she shouts, but her hips shift subtly against my hand.
“All I know is that I want you,” I say, her question sending my machine mind into a whirl. I grip the waistband of her pants, her scent increasing around me. “And I know that you want it too.”
I pull her pants down her legs in one smooth motion, leaving her in just her t-shirt and the soaked panties that cling to hersex. I drop the pants to the floor, my visual processors cataloging every detail of her exposed skin—the creamy pallor, the light freckles scattered across her thighs, the small bruise forming on her left knee where she must have fallen while running from me.
“So beautiful,” I murmur, my attention fixated on her panties as she lies on her back. The cotton is saturated with her arousal, darkened and clinging to the contours of her pussy. I can see the outline of her lips through the fabric, swollen and ready for me.
My cock pulses in response, straining against the confines of my uniform pants.
Her face is pink, but she makes no moves to stop me.
I hook my fingers in the elastic of her panties and slide them down her legs with reverent slowness, savoring each new inch of skin revealed. Her panties fall onto the floor next to her pants, and I desperately want to bring them to my face, to inhale deeply of her scent again.
Later. There will be time to smell her panties later. Now, I have the real thing before me.
“Spread your legs for me, Rose,” I command, my voice rough. When she hesitates, I place my hands on her inner thighs and apply gentle pressure. “Let me see that pretty pussy that got so wet for me behind the gas station. The one that squirted all over my hand.”
She lets out a small whimper. Her whimper sounds like 75% arousal and 25% embarrassment.
Rose finally allows her thighs to part. The sight of her exposed sex sends surges of electricity through me.Strong surges. My cock hardens instantly again at the sight.
Her pussy is petite and pink, with delicate inner lips just peeking out from her outer labia. Her clit is visible, swollen, and emerging from its hood, begging for attention. She’s completely shaved, the smooth skin accentuating her feminine body.
“Look at this gorgeous little pussy,” I say, my voice filled with genuine awe. “So pretty and pink. So fucking wet for me.”
I run a finger lightly along her slit, gathering the moisture that’s already seeping from her entrance.
She squirms under my gaze, her discomfort evident but overshadowed by the physical responses I’m monitoring—increased blood flow to her genitals, elevated respiration, dilated pupils. Her body is reacting to my inspection of her.
