The Girl I Undressed Part 3 of 5

by IamHerEmma

 

 

Author’s Note:

I want to begin by thanking everyone for the comments and love so far. Seeing your responses to the first two chapters has meant a lot, and I’m truly grateful for the encouragement and support you've shown.

With this chapter, we’re reaching the middle of the story. Things are starting to pick up, and this is where I wanted to begin exploring the emotional and physical dynamic between the characters in a deeper way. I tried to strike a balance, bringing some heat into the story while also trying to make sure the emotional undercurrent stayed strong.

One of the things I was especially conscious of was how Ashley takes the lead in the bedroom. I didn’t want her to come off as pushy, but I also wanted her to remain confidently in charge of their shared exploration. It was important to me not to rush things or aim too high too fast, but also not to slow the pace so much that it lost momentum.

This chapter was about connection, trust, and a bit of bravery from both of them. I hope that comes through.

=====================================================================

Note: This story is told from the POV of the female lead, Ashley.

=========================================================

Later, That Saturday…

We didn’t leave the apartment.

We didn’t need to.

Once the wig was settled and the shock of the mirror faded into something softer — something closer to wonder — we found ourselves simply… living.

I let Emma guide the pace.

We ended up in the kitchen around noon. I pulled down the sandwich bread, and she started chopping cucumbers without even asking. No roles, no rules. Just us.

“Too thin?” she asked, squinting down at the slices.

“Nah,” I said, grinning. “I like it when it falls apart dramatically in my hands.”

“Good,” she said, “because this is what I’ve committed to.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Noted. Miss Thin-Slice.”

“Oh, please,” she said with mock offense. “You can’t name me like a Bond girl.”

“Why not?” I smirked, nudging her with my hip. “You’re giving classy European femme-fatale energy.”

She huffed, trying not to laugh. “Stop it.”

But I saw the way her cheeks flushed under the blush. She touched her hair, a little self-conscious, and tucked it behind her ear, just like a woman would.

We took lunch to the couch. Sitting cross-legged, facing each other with plates balanced on our knees, trading bites and insults.

“God, how did you survive before me?” I asked between chews.

“I was nourished entirely by instant ramen and shame.”

“That explains your skin texture before I exfoliated it.”

“Rude.”

We both burst out laughing, full-bodied and loose. Like we’d slipped into a rhythm that had always existed between us, and now finally had room to breathe.

At one point, I reached for my drink and caught her eyes again, lined, sparkling, curious, and soft. The kind of look that made me feel like I was being read like a poem she’d come to know by heart.

I felt it then. The words slid out without warning.

“God, Emma… it feels like we’ve known each other forever.”

It came out so naturally, I didn’t even hear it until it echoed in the silence between us.

We both stilled.

Her hand froze on her glass. My breath hitched just a little.

And then… her lips parted. Just slightly.

“You too,” she asked, voice quieter now. Smaller.

I nodded, swallowing past something thick in my throat. “Yeah. You feel… old to me. In that right way.”

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward. It was full. Dense with meaning neither of us could quite put into words, only feel.

She smiled then. A shy one. But real.

“Thanks for seeing me,” she said.

“Thanks for letting me,” I replied.

The rest of the day flowed like warm water.

We ordered pizza. Half veggie, half meat, because compromise was the backbone of our love language. She tried folding hers like a New Yorker and dropped pepperoni down her dress.

We cleaned up. She teased me for wearing my lawyer socks, the boring gray ones. I called her out for having better legs than me, and we ended up measuring thighs with a spatula for no reason at all.

“I’m not kidding, you have great legs,” I said, “but if sundresses are going to be a thing, we should talk shaving.”

She made a face, laughing. “I knew there’d be homework.”

“Only if you want. I’m just… noticing what the hem shows.”

She tipped her head, brows knitting, a little confused. “What do I even do?”

“Warm shower, actual shaving cream, short strokes, ankle up, careful at the knee. Rinse and moisturize.”

She tipped her head, a smile tugging at her mouth. “You sound very authoritative.”

I arched a brow, trying not to grin. “I give excellent tutorials.”

He huffed a laugh and nodded.

“We can start with calves. I’ll do one to show you; you do the other. If you hate it, we stop.”

“Deal. But if I nick myself, you’re carrying me.”

“Drama queen.”

By the time the sun dipped low and shadows stretched long across the floor, I realized that I loved this person beside me more than ever. More than I thought possible.

It was just us. Nothing broken. Nothing forced.

Until bedtime crept up on us.

And the quiet returned.

==================================================================

Night crept in slow and soft, like the world itself was dimming the lights just for us.

We were quiet as we started getting ready for bed, our earlier laughter now folded into something gentler. Something more aware.

I sat on the edge of the mattress, unhooking my earrings and setting them on the nightstand, when I caught movement in the corner of my eye. Emma was standing in front of the mirror, hands reaching up to her scalp.

Fingers brushing toward the wig.

She wasn’t being dramatic about it. No sigh, no declaration. Just a quiet gesture. An undoing. A return.

But something inside me clenched.

I turned.

“Please,” I said, softer than I meant to. “Don’t.”

Her hands froze.

She looked at me through the mirror. Her eyes wide, lips parted slightly, unsure.

“I just…” I stood, taking a breath. “I want to spend the night with Emma. Not James. Just… tonight.”

She turned slowly, processing that.

Her mouth twitched like she might protest. But then something shifted. Her eyes softened. She gave the smallest of nods.

“Okay.”

I smiled gently. “Go pick something to wear. Something pretty. Something… Emma.”

She opened the drawer hesitantly, flipping through the mix of soft cottons and slinky pieces we’d set aside over the past weeks. Her fingers paused on a dusty rose silk nightie, bias-cut, falling to mid-thigh.

She held it up uncertainly, then glanced at me as if asking permission.

“That one’s perfect,” I said.

She disappeared into the bathroom, the door closing with a quiet click. I stood there for a moment, listening to the faint sounds of running water, the shuffle of movement, the rustle of fabric.

And then, just like before… something inside me shifted again.

I found myself walking to James’s drawer.

My fingers brushed over flannel and worn cotton. I pulled out a pair of navy blue boxer briefs that were a little loose on me and one of his old white sports tanks. I slipped them on slowly, watching my reflection in the mirror. The way the briefs hugged my hips. The raw lines of the tank against my skin. I felt strong. Clean. Settled.

Balanced.

By the time I slid under the covers, the bathroom door opened.

Emma stepped out slowly.

And she was… breathtaking.

The silk clung to her just right, grazing her curves with each hesitant step. Her hair — the wig was still smooth and framing her face. Her skin had that soft post-shower glow, and there was something in her eyes. Not fear. Not even shyness.

Peace.

She climbed into bed carefully, like she didn’t want to disrupt the moment.

We didn’t touch. Not yet.

We just lay there side by side, wrapped in moonlight and silence.

I could hear Emma breathing beside me, steady and soft, like she was trying not to break whatever spell we’d slipped into.

But I didn’t want stillness.

I wanted her.

Not in the frantic, uncertain way from before, but in this new softness. This truth.

So I turned, brushing hair from her cheek, letting my fingers trail down her jaw. Her eyes flicked to mine, wide and searching. She didn’t flinch.

I leaned in and kissed her. It was slow, tender, exploratory. Her lips parted gently, like she didn’t expect it but had been hoping for it anyway.

The kiss deepened, our mouths pressing together with more heat. Her hand found my hip beneath the tank and held me there.

I pushed her gently onto her back and climbed over her, straddling her thighs.

“You okay?” I asked, brushing my thumb along her cheek.

Emma nodded, lips parted, breathing a little faster now.

I peeled the tank off over my head, letting my breasts fall free in the dim light. Her eyes widened, completely locked on me.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” she whispered.

I leaned down and kissed her again, harder this time. My tongue meeting hers with that same flicker of hunger we hadn’t touched since that first night.

Our bodies pressed close, and I started to grind against her, slow and deliberate. I felt her cock stir beneath the silk, growing harder with each movement.

She gasped into my mouth as I reached between us and slid her panties down, baring her to the warm air.

Her cock was already hard and thick, twitching in my hand. I wrapped my fingers around it and gave it a few slow, teasing strokes.

“Oh my god,” Emma whispered, hips rising slightly off the bed.

I slid off my own boxers and tossed them aside. Then I straddled her again and held her cock steady as I lowered myself onto it.

The stretch, the fullness, it made me gasp.

She filled me slowly, inch by inch, until I was seated all the way down, my thighs snug around hers. Her hands clutched at the sheets.

I started to ride her gently, hips moving in slow, wet circles. The friction, the pressure — it was almost unbearable, in the best way.

She looked up at me like I was magic. And I felt it, both her awe and her surrender.

I came first. Sharp, clenching around her, hips stuttering as I moaned out her name.

“Emma…”

I felt her getting close, her breath quickening, her hips thrusting up into me, needy.

But I pulled off.

She whined — a needy, broken sound that made me smile.

I turned around and moved into a 69 position, straddling her face while leaning down to take her cock back into my mouth.

She moaned under me as my lips wrapped around her, and her tongue found my clit. She was slow, focused, like she needed to taste all of me.

I sucked her cock deep, moaning around her, letting my spit drip down her shaft while her hands grabbed my thighs, holding me in place.

I came again, slower this time. Her mouth didn’t stop, even as I trembled above her.

And then, my hand drifted lower.

I cupped the soft curve of her ass, fingers teasing along the cleft. She twitched beneath me.

I brought my hand to my mouth, licking two fingers slowly, and reached back. I rubbed small, slick circles around her tight entrance. She gasped, legs tensing.

“Relax,” I whispered, and pressed gently.

Her body opened, tight at first, then yielding as my fingertip slipped inside.

“F-fuck,” she breathed, hips jerking slightly.

I kept sucking her cock while slowly fingering her. Just one finger, shallow at first, then deeper. My other hand wrapped around her shaft and began stroking her in rhythm.

She was trembling.

“God… Ashley… I'm gonna…”

She came hard — thick, hot pulses that filled my mouth, spilled over my hand, splashed against her thighs and stomach. Her whole body shuddered as I stroked her through it, my finger still buried inside her.

When it was over, I kissed her inner thigh and slowly slid my finger free.

I turned and lay down beside her. She pulled me close.

Neither of us said anything.

We didn’t need to.

==================================================================

Sunday...

The sun hadn’t fully risen yet. That soft in-between light, the kind that made everything look gentler. Less real.

I was already awake.

My body ached in the best possible ways. My thighs, my hips, even the base of my spine were humming with leftover electricity. And next to me, sleeping on their side, was them. Wig off now, resting neatly on the bedside table, next to a crumpled silk nightie.

Just James. Just Emma.

Still breathing slow, deep, warm.

My eyes traced the curve of their back, the shape of their shoulders, the soft rise and fall of their chest. The covers were pooled low around the waist, revealing bare skin and the faint imprint of my nails across it.

I bit my lip.

God.

Last night replayed in flashes I couldn’t stop even if I wanted to.

The feel of her cock inside me. Slow, deep, perfect.

The sound she made when I pulled off, that needy little gasp that undid me.

Her face buried between my legs as I sucked her, both of us lost in each other.
And then… that final moment.

My finger sliding inside her, slowly. The way her body responded in shock, then surrender. The heat of her cum spilling into my mouth as I stroked her.

I felt it again, low in my stomach, not just the heat of desire, but something else.

Something more complicated.

I’d taken control in a way I hadn’t expected. In a way that felt natural.

And they’d wanted it.

Trusted me with it.

A soft sound pulled me out of the memory. Sheets shifting. A low breath

James. Emma. They stirred beside me, blinking slowly awake.

“Hey, you,” I whispered.

For a second, we just looked at each other. Just the quiet acknowledgment of something that had shifted between us.

“Sleep okay?” I asked gently.

James nodded. “Yeah. You?”

I nodded back. “Mmhmm.” Then, softer, “Last night…”

His expression changed. Not fearful, just tentative.

I reached out, tucking a strand of his hair behind his ear.

“I didn’t plan any of that,” I said. “It just… happened. I didn’t mean to take over like that.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” James said quickly, his voice still husky with sleep.

I watched his expression settle. The tension that had once wrapped around him like armor was gone, at least for the moment.

“You sure?” I asked, brushing my fingers along his forearm.

He nodded slowly. “Yeah. I mean…” His eyes flicked away for a second, gathering the words. “It was a lot. I didn’t expect any of it.”

I gave a small smile. “Neither did I.”

He looked back at me, hesitant but curious. “Did it… scare you? I mean, the way it happened?”

I paused, then shook my head. “Not scared. Just surprised. I didn’t know I had that in me. And I didn’t know you’d trust me that much.”

“I didn’t know I would either,” he said quietly. “But I did. I do.”

There was a moment of silence. Not awkward, just full.

“I wanted you to feel safe,” I said, “and wanted. Not like a role or a costume. Just… you. Whoever that is in the moment.”

He smiled, just barely. “You saw a lot of me last night.”

“Yeah,” I said, returning the smile. “And I liked what I saw.”

He reached over and touched my hand. Not for comfort, not to anchor, but to connect.

“I don’t think I’ve ever felt that way before,” he murmured.

James squeezed my fingers gently, and I could see the flicker of emotion in his eyes. It felt like something tender, something scared, something grateful.

I leaned over and kissed his cheek. “We’ll take it one step at a time.”

“Promise?” he asked.

“Promise.”

I squeezed his hand, keeping my voice gentle. “What’s going on in your head right now?” I asked.

“I don’t know what I expected,” he added, eyes finding the ceiling, “but it wasn’t that.”

“That?” I asked gently.

“That feeling. Of being so...” He paused, searching for a word.

I exhaled slowly, not ready to say anything too big or too certain. “We live. We talk. We play. We find out what we both want from this.”

Just then, something in his face shifted, a slight wrinkle of hesitation.

“What?” I asked.

“I kind of… wish I could be her. All day. Just for the day,” he admitted quietly.

I blinked, warmth spreading through me. “Why can’t you?”

He hesitated, but there was no real resistance in him. Just nerves.

I leaned in and kissed the corner of his mouth. “Come on. Let’s start with brushing our teeth.”

He snorted. “Very glamorous.”

“Well, Emma needs fresh breath, too.”

He laughed, and that sound, light and open, felt like a sunrise between us.

We padded into the bathroom like two teenagers sleepwalking through their first sleepover. I watched him in the mirror as I brushed my teeth, James, but still softer somehow. Not trying to hide it anymore. Still wearing the silk nightie from last night, hair a little messy, eyes tired but open.

He caught me watching him and smirked, foam in the corners of his mouth. “Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you know a secret about me.”

I rinsed my mouth and leaned on the counter. “Maybe I do.”

He rolled his eyes, but there was no bite in it. “Do you always have this much sarcasm in the mornings?”

“Only when I’ve made someone scream into my pussy the night before,” I said sweetly.

He choked on a laugh and turned away, spitting out toothpaste. “Jesus, Ash.”

I grinned. “Too much?”

“Maybe wait until coffee next time.”

I turned toward the kitchen. “Your loss.”

==================================================================

The days blurred into weeks, soft and steady. There was no sudden change, no dramatic turning point, just a quiet unfolding. Emma was becoming more confident and more comfortable with herself. Around the house, she moved with ease now, in camisoles, soft skirts, nighties. All the little luxuries we’d picked out were slowly stitching themselves into our daily rhythm.

On one of those evenings, we turned the bathroom into a quiet little ritual. I set out a spare razor and unscented gel, warmed the water, and showed James the rhythm of shaving his body hair—short strokes, light pressure, skin held flat at the tricky spots. We kept it slow, rinsed cool, patted dry, and smoothed on lotion. Later, when a skirt hem skimmed that new‑smooth skin, the way he lit up told me the lesson had landed.

Going outside, though… that was still a different beast. The idea lingered, unspoken but present, like a bridge neither of us was quite ready to cross. But as James, we kept up appearances. Grocery runs. Casual lunches. Even the occasional trip to the mall, which frankly, was becoming dangerous.

The shopping. Oh god, the shopping.

Between makeup experiments, lingerie splurges, and a mounting collection of soft sweaters and satin, our bank account had started to whimper. Nothing tragic — we were both earning decently — but eventually we sat down with a shared Google Sheet and tried to convince ourselves that budgeting was romantic foreplay.

Still, even when I was at work, distracted by contracts and calls and calendars, I couldn’t stop thinking about the way our life was changing. The way we were changing.

And the sex…

God, the sex.

It was different now. Not just because Emma was in lace and silk. Not just because she moaned differently when I touched her.

It was the way something inside me had started to shift too.

A kind of energy, rising in the quiet heat between us. It wasn’t some conscious decision. I didn’t wake up one day and choose to play the aggressor. But every time we touched, every time I saw her flushed and spread open beneath me, it stirred.

This urge to take the lead. To guide her body. To be the one in control.

And Emma fluttered into it, every single time.

Maybe it was instinct, or perhaps she wanted to be taken. Maybe she needed it the way I needed her to surrender. At least, that’s how it looked.

I couldn’t put my finger on it exactly. I didn’t have the words yet.

But I felt it.

That quiet permission in her eyes. The way she whimpered when I growled something low into her ear. How she gasped when I bent her over, or pinned her wrists, or whispered “good girl” without thinking.

Like she was giving herself over to me.

And every time I slipped my fingers back into her tight, needy ass, every time she moaned and clutched the sheets and came with a trembling cry, that thing inside me… bloomed.

I hadn’t expected any of it. And I didn’t know what to call it yet.

But I knew it felt incredible.

And I wanted more with every passing moment.

==================================================================

One Friday Evening…

Friday evenings always felt heavier, like the weight of the week was trailing behind me, clinging to my heels. But tonight… there was something else in the air. A mix of nerves and electricity.

I walked in carrying three bags. Two paper ones, one glossy black and sinfully discreet. Emma greeted me from the living room, the hem of her pretty floral dress swaying just a little as she padded over in fuzzy socks. Her hair was smoothed and pinned half-up in a soft little twist, and her lips had a soft berry gloss that caught the fading sun.

“Hey,” she said, smiling brightly, voice lilting in that delicate way she sometimes slipped into. “The game I’ve been working on? The publisher got back. And it’s good news! Really good!”

I dropped the bags onto the kitchen counter and leaned in for a kiss. “What kind of good?”

“They loved the beta,” she said, practically glowing. “Want to set up a video call soon. Said they haven’t seen pacing this clean in months.”

I beamed at her. “That’s incredible. You earned that.”

She gave a little shrug, eyes soft. “Maybe. Still feels surreal.”

Then she glanced down at the bags. “What’s all that?”

I tugged the handles of one open slightly. “Dinner. Chinese. The good place, not the oily stuff you like.”

She gasped, feigning offense.

I laughed. “Noted for future edible nights.”

“And the other bags?”

“Clothes,” I said, casually — too casually. I turned away before she could press further. “Just something I saw on sale. I’ll show you later.”

She gave me a suspicious but amused look. “Uh huh.”

“Go light the candles,” I said, brushing past her. “Let me freshen up and we’ll eat.”

Upstairs, I closed the bedroom door behind me and dropped the bags onto the bed. The black bag sat there like a secret, heavy with implication.

My heart beat just a little faster as I opened it and removed the two boxes.

One small, sleek, and lined in crimson satin. The jeweled butt plug glinted up at me like it knew exactly what it was for.

The other, simple and discreet. Inside, a soft pink silicone dildo. A modest five inches, curved just enough. Playful. Curious.

I ran my fingers along it slowly, thoughtfully. My breath hitched.

We were in such a good place. The intimacy, the openness, the way Emma bloomed when she felt safe. I didn’t want to risk that.

But I couldn’t lie to myself. I wanted this. I wanted to try something new. To see how far we could go. To see what else Emma might give me if I asked the right way.

If I didn’t spook her.

Dinner first.

===============================================================

I stepped out of the shower, steam curling behind me like the end of a spell, and towel-dried my skin with slow, deliberate motions. My body felt warm, not just from the water, but from anticipation.

I looked over at the second bag I hadn’t opened yet — the other kind of surprise.

Inside was a folded black tank top, boxer briefs in my size, and a pair of snug, distressed jeans. There was also a blue soft cotton button-up, with rolled sleeves, the kind that skimmed and hinted without clinging.

I laid them out like puzzle pieces. A quiet kind of statement. Not costume. Not parody.

Just… me. Leaning into something I hadn’t named yet. Something I only really felt when I was with her.

The hair came next. I didn’t do much, just pulled it back into a low, loose knot, a few strands escaping. A little sharp at the edges. Not butch. Not femme. Something in between.

Something bolder.

I stepped into the kitchen.

Emma looked up from where she was plating dumplings, and froze.

For a full second, maybe longer, she just stared like her brain had to buffer. Like she’d just been hit with a plot twist she hadn’t seen coming.

She blinked once. Twice. “Okay,” she said finally, drawing the word out. “That’s… different.”

“Different bad or different Day-um?”

She made a soft, strangled sound in her throat and turned quickly back to the food. “I didn’t say day-um.”

“You didn’t have to.”

“Don’t be smug.”

“I’m not smug. I’m casually confident.”

Emma glanced at me over her shoulder, eyes narrowed. “You’re casually dangerous.”

I walked over to the counter, grabbed two glasses, and filled them with water. Her gaze kept flicking back to me like she was trying not to. Like my presence was this gravitational field she hadn’t agreed to enter.

“You okay over there?” I asked, grinning.

“I’m fine. Totally fine. Why wouldn't I be fine?” She turned with the plates and nearly bumped into me. Her breath caught.

I arched a brow. “Uh-huh.”

She backed up and shoved one of the plates into my hands. “Sit. Eat. Stop looking like you know things.”

“Know what?”

“Exactly.”

We sat down at the table. Or, more accurately, Emma sat down and then immediately scooted her chair back an inch like proximity might short-circuit her.

I took a bite of rice, washed it down, and watched her over the rim of my glass. “So?”

“So what?”

“You’re being very composed.”

“Am I?”

“About me.”

She set her chopsticks down with a soft clack. “Ashley, I’m trying very hard to focus on food and not the fact that you walked in here like you just finished a photo shoot for ‘Ridiculously Hot People Who Know It.’”

I grinned. “You think I look hot?”

She gave me a long, dramatic look. “I think you look like trouble.”

I let that sink in and then leaned forward just slightly, elbows on the table. “You’re cute when you’re flustered.”

“I am not flustered.”

“You’re blushing.”

“It’s warm in here.”

“It’s definitely not the dumplings.”

She shoved a piece of broccoli at me with her chopsticks. “Eat your dinner before I throw you on this table.”

I opened my mouth to respond, and then stopped. Met her gaze. Raised an eyebrow.

Emma turned bright red. “Not like that!”

I laughed, nearly choking on my water. “You said it, not me.”

She groaned and buried her face in her hands. “Why do I even try?”

I leaned across the table, brushing her wrist gently. “Because you love it when I win.”

She peeked out through her fingers. “You are so full of yourself right now.”

“I learned from the best.”

Her hands dropped slowly from her face. Her smile softened. “You’re really pulling this off, you know.”

I tipped my head, teasing. “The outfit?”

She gave a short laugh. “That whole… the look. The energy. You feel… different.”

I tilted my head. “Different how?”

“I don’t know,” she said, twirling her chopsticks. “Like… imposing. Hot.”

I sat with that for a second. She wasn’t wrong. I did feel different.

“I like how you look at me,” I said, voice low but honest.

Emma’s smile deepened, a glint in her eyes. “It’s hard not to when you walk in like that.”

I chuckled, nudging her foot under the table. “You’re staring again.”

She nudged back. “Yeah, and I’m not even sorry.”

I caught the way her pupils widened, the tiny hitch in her breath. It was turning her on. I felt it too, heat in my pussy.

Dinner was finished. Plates cleared, wine glasses rinsed, leftovers tucked into the fridge. We moved like muscle memory until we ended up on the couch together, like we always did.

Emma curled up beside me, her legs tucked under her, the hem of her dress brushing her thighs. I grabbed the remote, let her choose, and wasn’t surprised when she settled on something romantic. Old enough to be timeless, slow enough to feel intentional.

And as the movie started, I couldn’t help but notice again how effortlessly she was slipping into this version of herself. Still James, still the same person beneath it all, but the way she shifted her weight against me, the way her fingers brushed mine so gently, the softness in her glances… it was Emma now.

Even the flirting between us had started to change. It was lighter, playful, and charged in a different frequency. Sweeter. More magnetic. Like she’d stopped trying to act any particular way and had just… started being. It kept catching me off guard and turning me on.

Halfway through the film, the lead couple finally gave in to whatever slow-burning tension had been crackling between them. Their kiss was long, heated, and drawn out. The kind of cinematic kiss that made time slow down. Fingers in hair, bodies leaning in, mouths lingering like they’d waited years.

I glanced down.

Emma was already watching me, a tiny flare at her nose, lips slightly parted.

There wasn’t a word exchanged. Just a small shift, the barest lean forward, and then her lips were on mine. Soft, sweet. No urgency.

My hand found her thigh. Her hand found mine.

The movie continued to play, but I wasn’t watching anymore.

Her lips were still on mine when my hand moved, almost without thought, instinct guiding intention. I slid it gently across her thigh, then down, over the warm curve between her legs.

Even through the soft fabric of her panties, I could feel her hardness, already pulsing.

Emma let out the faintest breath against my mouth. A sound that lit a fuse.

The kiss deepened. What had started as a quiet spark turned into a hungry flame in seconds. Tongues met. Fingers curled. My hand pressed in, slow, teasing strokes over her cock through the lace, drawing a quiet moan from her throat as her hips shifted forward to meet my palm.

She was trembling already. And so was I.

I broke the kiss, breathless, my hand still lingering between her thighs. Emma looked dazed, her lips parted, chest rising and falling fast.

“Let's go,” I whispered, taking her hand.

We moved to the bedroom in a haze of need. I backed her toward the bed, our mouths colliding again, slower now but deeper, wetter. Her fingers were clinging to my shirt like she didn’t want to let go.

We broke apart just long enough to catch our breath. Emma’s cheeks were flushed, her lips swollen, her eyes wild with something I could only call hunger. But it wasn’t desperate. It was deliberate. A need she knew I could meet.

I turned to the dresser, not thinking—or maybe thinking too clearly. I opened the drawer, sifted past lace and silk, and found what I’d stashed away earlier.

The jeweled plug caught the light in my hand.

I turned back to her, holding it quietly.

I didn’t speak. I just looked at her, a question behind my gaze.

Emma looked back at me, eyes wide and glimmering. She gave a quick swallow. My pussy throbbed as I held her gaze, steady. There was uncertainty there, and a new curiosity.

I set the plug down gently on the nightstand.

Then I stepped back toward her, kissing her again, deeper this time, claiming her mouth with open hunger. My hands gripped her waist, pulling her tight against me, her cock pushing hard against my stomach through the lace. I held her there for a beat, then took the lead.

Without a word, I turned her.

She gasped softly as I bent her forward, guiding her down onto the bed. I pushed her face down, ass up, her dress bunched around her hips, and her lace panties stretched tight across her girlish hips.

I leaned over her, my body pressing down on hers, pinning her in place with the weight of my need.

She gasped as I pressed my breasts to her back, a quick shiver running through her. I lowered my mouth to her ear, the air between us humming.

“Let’s play with Emma’s pretty little rose bud,” I whispered, voice low and hot. “I want to see how wet I can make it.”

Emma let out a low, breathy moan the moment she heard my voice with that little edge of command, the heat behind it. Her body tensed beneath mine, hips shifting ever so slightly, like the words alone had touched her.

I kissed the back of her neck, then her shoulder, and began my slow descent.

My hands gripped the waistband of her panties and peeled them down with one fluid motion, baring the soft curve of her ass. I spread her gently, watching the way she squirmed, the way her breath hitched, like even the air against her was too much.

Then I leaned in.

My tongue traced slow, deliberate circles around the tight ring of her unexplored flower — soft at first, teasing. I felt her whole body react, her thighs trembling under my hands, her fingers knotting in the bedsheets.

She gasped, not expecting it. Not prepared for how gently and completely I would claim her there.

I kept going, licking her like it was the sweetest thing in the world — opening her with my mouth until she was whimpering, arching back toward me, hips moving on their own.

And above it all, I could feel her trust. The way she gave herself over, moan by moan.

My Emma.

Mine.

I slowed my tongue, then stopped entirely, letting a final, wet kiss linger before I pulled away.

Emma whimpered, hips rising just slightly off the bed, begging for more. But I held her down with a hand on the small of her back, firm but gentle, feeling her body quiver beneath me.

She looked back over her shoulder, eyes glazed, lips parted in silent protest.

I didn’t say a word. I just reached for the plug on the nightstand, small but weighted, the softest shimmer catching in the low light.

She saw it. And she didn’t flinch.

I spread her again with both hands and leaned in to kiss the small of her back, letting my fingers slowly tease around her opening, still slick and relaxed from my mouth.

“Breathe for me,” I whispered.

She did.

I lubed up the plug and pressed it gently against her, easing it in slowly, letting her adjust and feel it stretch her open. She let out a soft cry.

Her body tensed… then softened.

And with a subtle, final push, the jeweled base nestled perfectly between her cheeks.

She gasped, her head dropping to the sheets, one hand reaching back to touch where I’d claimed her.

I leaned over, brushing her hair aside, kissing her shoulder.

“Perfect,” I murmured.

I let my hand glide over the curve of her back, then gently coaxed her to turn over.

Emma moved easily, pliant beneath my touch, her eyes wide and shimmering with heat. I straddled her hips, leaning down to kiss her again, deep and slow and lingering. There was no rush. Just warmth, breath, hunger building between us again.

I held her down, not harshly, just enough. Just enough for her to feel it. My palms on her wrists, our bodies aligned, the jeweled plug still nestled inside her, a constant reminder of how open she already was for me.

She didn’t resist.

She didn’t want to.

Our kiss deepened. Our tongues brushing, teeth grazing, soft gasps swallowed into each other. And when I pulled back, she looked up at me like she was already undone.

I slid off her slowly, letting my clothes fall away one by one until I stood bare in the soft lamplight.

Then I sank to my knees at the edge of the bed.

Emma’s cock was hard again, twitching slightly, framed by flushed skin and trembling thighs. I pressed a kiss to the inside of her leg. Then another, closer.

And then I took her into my mouth.

Her breath caught, sharp and needy, as I wrapped my lips around her, tongue circling her tip before sliding lower. I moved slow, steady, sucking her deep. Her hands clutched the sheets again, moaning openly now, hips rising just a little but never fighting my pace.

I set the rhythm, smooth and generous, savoring every inch of her while the jeweled plug kept her stretched and sensitive.

I let her slip from my mouth slowly, teasing her with one last lick before rising to meet her gaze.

She looked wrecked in the most beautiful way. Her eyes were heavy, her chest rising fast, her lips parted as if trying to catch up to what her body was feeling. I climbed onto the bed and over her, straddling her waist, guiding her cock between my folds, letting her feel just how wet I was from having her on my tongue.

Emma whimpered as I rubbed against her, the jeweled plug still in place, her cock slick and swollen against me. I leaned forward, bracing one hand on her chest, the other guiding her to my entrance.

“Let me ride you,” I whispered.

I lowered myself slowly, inch by inch, until she was buried inside me.

Her hands found my hips, trembling as I began to move with a slow grind, hips circling, taking her deep with every roll of my body. The pressure built between us instantly. I held her gaze. Her eyes were wide, pupils blown. Eager. Open. Hungry.

I moved with purpose, chasing pleasure, our bodies slapping softly in rhythm, the heat between us unbearable and perfect. She moaned beneath me, the kind of raw, unfiltered sound that lit me up from the inside out.

But I wasn’t done with her.

I leaned forward, kissed her hard, and then climbed off of her and fell back on the bed, breathless with my legs parted.

“Your turn,” I murmured, voice thick with need.

Emma didn’t hesitate.

She climbed over me, guided herself back inside me with shaking hands, and began to thrust. She moved deep, then slower, then faster. Her hips snapped forward, body glistening, face flushed with the need to give everything to me.

I wrapped my legs around her and pulled her closer, nails dragging down her back, moaning openly as she pounded into me. Each stroke hit deeper, the heat building to something wild.

“Don’t stop,” I gasped, and she didn’t.

Emma buried her face in my neck as she drove into me, the plug inside her adding an edge that had her panting like she was coming apart. I held her tight, rode the rhythm with her, until her thrusts turned frantic, desperate.

“I… I can’t…” she choked out.

And then she came.

Hard.

Her body jerked as she released her hot cum inside me, crying out softly against my skin, hips twitching through every pulsing wave of release. I held her through it, whispering her name, kissing her shoulder, hearts beating together in the quiet aftershock.

The room was quiet now, save for the sound of our uneven breathing, tangled, slowly finding its rhythm again.

I ran my fingers through her hair, brushing it back from her damp forehead. She nuzzled into my chest, her cheek resting just above my heart, and I felt her exhale like she’d been holding something in for days.

I didn’t speak.

We lay like that for a while, skin on skin, her cock still nestled inside me, the jeweled plug still tucked between her cheeks, both of us wrapped in warmth and something quieter than lust. Something deeper.

Eventually, I felt her stir. Her body going soft, her breathing becoming even.

“You okay?” I whispered, my lips brushing the top of her head.

She nodded against me, then pulled back just enough to meet my eyes. I smiled, thumb brushing across her flushed cheek.

Her breathing was warm against my collarbone, her body limp and pliant in my arms. We stayed like that for a while. No words were spoken, just skin and silence, and the faint hum of something sacred settling between us.

Her fingers played with a strand of my hair, more like a nervous tic than anything else.

Then, quietly, “That was… different.”

I glanced down at her. “Different good or different too much?”

She shook her head slowly, still against me. “No, not too much. Just…” Her voice drifted for a second. “It’s hard to describe.”

I let my hand wander up her back again, slow and soothing.

“You were giving me everything,” I said gently. “I was just listening.”

She tilted her head slightly, meeting my gaze with a faint smile. “I think you could tell where I was. I tried to show you… how good it felt.”

“You did,” I said. “I wouldn’t have touched you like that if you hadn’t. I felt you asking for it, even if you didn’t say the words.”

Emma nodded, her expression a mix of softness and awe, like she was still wrapping her head around it.

“I don’t know what you do to me,” she whispered. “But… everything you do just works on me. I didn’t know I wanted this until you showed me. ”

We lay in silence for a while, the sheets tangled loosely around our legs, our breaths soft and even, but my mind still turning.

“There could’ve been more,” I said suddenly, my voice barely above a whisper.

Emma stirred slightly beside me, her head lifting just enough to glance at me. “More?”

I nodded, my fingers brushing the side of her arm. “I wasn’t sure how you’d react. I didn’t want to push you.”

“What do you mean?” she asked gently, searching my face now.

I hesitated, sitting up slowly and pulling away from her warmth. Her eyes followed me as I turned toward the nightstand and opened the drawer.

From the back, beneath the tissues and stray hair ties, I took out the other box.

I sat back on the bed beside her and held it in my palm.

She looked at it.

Then back at me.

“What… what is it?” she asked, her voice soft. Surprise and curiosity shading into something warmer.

I opened the lid and tilted the box so she could see the dildo. “For us. Maybe more for you, but… yeah.”

She looked down at the dildo, then back at me. “I didn’t know you were thinking about this.”

“I was,” I said, keeping my tone even. “Not to rush anything. Just… it’s been on my mind. After everything we’ve shared, I thought maybe… this could be something you'd want too.”

Emma was quiet, eyes still on the box like it might whisper answers if she stared hard enough.

“I just didn’t know when, or if, to show you,” I added, more gently now.

Her lips parted like she wanted to say something, but the words hadn’t formed yet. Her eyes flicked between me and the unopened box in my hand. She wasn’t pulling away. Just… processing.

“You already like my fingers,” I said softly, brushing my thumb along the edge of her thigh. “And I know tonight was a lot… but you didn’t just take the plug, you liked it. You let yourself enjoy it.”

Emma’s cheeks flushed slightly, but she didn’t look away.

“I bought both of them today,” I admitted. “The plug and this.” Heat climbed my throat, but I held her gaze. “Figured maybe, if tonight went well, we could think about what comes next.”

She still didn’t say anything, but her eyes were locked on mine now.

“I’m not saying now,” I added, keeping my voice gentle. “Just… maybe sometime. If you want to, we could try it.”

She swallowed hard, the rise and fall of her chest shifting against the sheet.

“Is that something you think you’d like?” I asked, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Not because I want it. Because I think you might.”

She bit her lip, nervous but visibly stirred, and whispered, “I don’t know.”

“That’s okay,” I said, leaning in to kiss her shoulder.

Emma was quiet for a long moment, her eyes tracing the dildo in the box again, then slipping back up to meet mine. “Are you… disappointed?” she asked, barely above a whisper.

I blinked, surprised by the question, then reached out to take her hand. “No,” I said firmly. “God, no. I know this is new for both of us. I mean, I feel like I pushed this on you a little too soon. Like I got carried away and didn’t check in properly.”

“You didn’t,” she said. “Ashley… I’ve never felt forced. Not once. Everything we’ve done has been because I wanted it for you. For us. Even when I didn’t expect to. Even when I didn’t know I could.”

I breathed out slowly.

Emma gave a small, nervous smile. “It’s like… I don’t always know what I want until we’re already doing it. Like something inside me just… opens up.”

I let out a soft smile at her honesty.

“But,” she added dryly, “that thing looks like it might be… a lot more than fingers or a sparkly plug.”

I couldn’t help it — my shoulders eased, the tension between us softening into something warm and familiar.

“Yeah,” I said. “She’s definitely a step up.”

Emma raised an eyebrow, lips twitching. “She? “We’re… gonna call it, she now?”

“Of course it’s a she.” I grinned, leaning back on my elbow. “You know… confident, bold, knows what she wants. Definitely the type to make an entrance.”

Emma laughed, bright and bubbling out of her like the tension had finally broken.

“Well, I hope she’s polite,” she said, eyeing the box again with mock suspicion. “Because my ass is still recovering from sparkly little miss plug over there.”

I snorted, covering my mouth with my hand. “I promise, she’ll be a gentlewoman.”

Emma rolled her eyes, but her smile didn’t fade. She let herself fall back onto the pillows, her body finally relaxed again, and glanced sideways at me.

“We’re ridiculous,” she muttered fondly.

“We are,” I agreed. “But, like… the sexy kind.”

We grinned at each other, still basking in the afterglow of laughter and vulnerability. Emma leaned in first, brushing her lips against mine in a soft, fleeting kiss.

Then another.

And another.

Like punctuation marks between breaths, gentle, unhurried.

I cupped her cheek, returned one of them a little slower, letting it linger. She smiled against my mouth, then nuzzled in close before finally pulling away.

“Bedtime?” I murmured.

She nodded with a sleepy hum. “Mhm.”

We both rose from the bed in a comfortable, quiet rhythm. Emma headed to the bathroom first, gathering her things, and I started tidying up the stray bits of clothing and tossing the plug box discreetly back into the drawer.

By the time she returned, her makeup washed off and a fresh satin nightie clinging softly to her skin, she looked relaxed and radiant.

I tucked away my clothes from dinner and slipped back into the same soft boxer briefs and tank top I’d worn underneath. Something about the fit felt snug, worn-in. It felt grounding.

Emma pulled back the covers, sliding into bed with a quiet sigh as I joined her on the other side. The sheets were cool against our skin, our bodies instinctively gravitating toward each other.

She curled against me, one leg draped loosely over mine, her fingers resting gently on my stomach. I wrapped an arm around her shoulder, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

No more words. No more planning.

Just the hush of the room, the rhythm of our breathing, and the slow drift into dreams.

===============================================================

Saturday Morning…

I woke to the familiar weight of Emma’s arm slung over my waist and the faint scent of us still lingering in the sheets. She was still asleep, her cheek pressed into the pillow, lips parted just slightly, somewhere between beautiful and completely unaware.

I didn’t move for a minute. Just stayed there, looking at her, thinking about last night. About the things I’d done, the things she’d allowed.

I exhaled slowly and peeled myself away before my thoughts got out of hand.

The floor was cool against my feet as I padded out to the kitchen in nothing but those soft boxer briefs and the tank top I’d slipped back into before bed. I didn’t bother with anything else. The house felt still and safe enough to let me just exist.

I started the coffee. Sliced some fruit. Thought about maybe making pancakes, then decided against it. Something about a quiet morning felt better than sizzling batter.

I leaned against the counter, mug in hand, and stared out the kitchen window.

We’d crossed another threshold last night. A new level of trust. And now… I couldn’t stop wondering what came next.

I heard the creak of the bedroom door and turned just in time to see Emma appear. She was still in her nightie, hair sleep-tousled, rubbing her eyes like some shy woodland creature who’d wandered into my apartment by accident.

"Morning," she mumbled, still not fully human. I slid a mug toward her, and she took it with both hands like it was life itself. No kiss. No eye contact. Just a low, appreciative hum as she sipped.

We talked about nothing at first. Groceries. My meetings. Laundry. She wanted to reorder that coconut body wash. I reminded her we were out of eggs. The kind of domestic rhythm that sneaks up on you when you’re not looking.

Then her phone buzzed again. Sharp. Insistent.

"Not mine," I said, glancing at my phone on the table.

She blinked, confused, then leaned forward and picked up hers.

That’s when I saw it.

The switch.

It wasn’t dramatic, no gasping transformation or sudden withdrawal. Just a soft, subtle folding inward. The way her shoulders straightened. The slight shift in her face, as if she’d pulled some invisible mask back into place.

Emma didn’t even say anything at first. She just stared at the phone screen with wide eyes, then unlocked it and skimmed a message.

Then, finally, her voice: “They want to do the video call.”

I raised an eyebrow. “They?”

She looked up at me, suddenly more alert, a flicker of pride underneath the hesitation. “The studio. The beta I sent them? They loved it. Said they want to talk today, see if I’m free for a deeper breakdown.”

Excitement burst in my chest. “That’s amazing!”

He smiled, not sheepishly, but somewhere between nerves and joy. “Yeah. Said they haven’t seen pacing this clean in months.”

That’s when it hit me. Emma was gone. James had quietly returned. And not in a way that felt like denial, but more like necessity. Like he had to hold this space right now, for his career, for himself.

But still… I could see the flicker of regret in his eyes.

James looked at me, quiet for a second. Then he smiled. Not the James smile. The soft, surprised one that almost looked like Emma peeking out.

“This could take a while,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck.

“No problem,” I replied. “I can go grocery shopping. Stop by the office. Pick up a few things. Gives you the day.”

“You sure?”

“Completely.” I leaned in and kissed his cheek. “Go be brilliant. I’ll be back before you know it.”

===============================================================

Later that day…

I came through the door with a bag of takeout swinging from my hand and a breeze of early evening following behind me. It smelled like garlic and something tangy—Thai, this time. Comfort in a carton.

James looked up from the couch as I kicked off my heels, his expression open, oddly calm for someone who’d been buzzing about game metrics and production timelines all week. The laptop was shut. His feet were tucked beneath him. The overhead light caught the softness in his eyes.

"Hey," he said.

"Hey, you," I replied, placing the bag on the counter.

We didn't pounce on each other with news right away. Instead, we moved through our little rituals of setting out plates, folding napkins we never used, and cracking open fizzy drinks. But something in the air felt fizzy too, and neither of us could ignore it for long.

By the time we were halfway through our spring rolls, it just came out of me.

“So,” I said, poking at my noodles. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

James looked up, one eyebrow raised. “Should I be worried?”

I smiled, feeling the heat in my cheeks. “No. Not unless you’re scared of sleeping next to a partner now.”

He blinked. “Like... a partner partner?”

I nodded, taking a breath. “Unofficially, yes. Officially? Monday morning. Got the call at the office. I wasn’t supposed to say anything yet, but—”

“You’re gonna be a partner,” he said, finishing the sentence for me like it had just clicked. “Ash... that’s huge!”

“It is,” I said, letting the weight of it finally settle in. “It comes with a fat raise. More control over my schedule. Honestly, it’s everything I wanted without the blood sacrifice I was expecting.”

James leaned back, staring at me with that kind of proud quiet that makes your stomach flutter. And then he started to laugh.

“What?” I grinned, nudging his thigh with my foot under the table.

“Nothing, just… it’s ridiculous.”

“What is?”

“That we both waited through dinner to say anything.”

My brows drew together. “Wait—”

He held up his hands. “So, they had the call today. The beta’s been greenlit for launch. They want to bring me on with a full rev-share model and potential creative direction for the next phase.”

I dropped my chopsticks.

He just nodded. “I know.”

We both sat there for a minute, blinking. Then I stood up, walked around the table, and pulled him into a hug so tight it made him laugh again.

“This changes everything,” I said softly.

Not because the money made it easier. Not because status unlocked something. But because for the first time, I felt like we were moving together at the same speed... in everything. Just breathing in the same direction.

James held me tighter, his chin brushing the top of my head.

“Not everything,” he murmured. “Not the important parts.”

I smiled into his shirt. “No. Not us.”

James looked at me then, not with worry, but wonder. Like he was trying to take in the shape of this new moment.

“We’re really here, huh?” he said quietly.

I leaned in, resting my forehead against his. “Yeah. And it feels… good.”

As we held each other, surrounded by takeout boxes and leftover fortune cookies, it suddenly hit me how it was all ridiculously domestic.

James reached for a spring roll and completely missed the dipping sauce.

“Wow,” I said, grinning. “Flawless motor skills. Truly lead developer material.”

“Hey,” he said, mouth full. “I’m in post-celebration recovery mode. My reflexes are currently on strike.”

“You’re lucky you’re so cute,” I teased.

He raised a brow. “Just.. cute?”

“Okay… devastatingly cute,” I corrected, plucking a grain of rice from his collar. “You’ve got the whole shy-genius-slash-secret-fox thing going.”

He smirked. “Keep talking like that and I’m going to start thinking you’re after me for more than just my spring rolls.”

“Oh, honey,” I said, leaning in with a mock whisper. “I’m absolutely after your spring rolls.”

I nudged him with my shoulder. “Can I tell you something weird?”

“Is it about me looking hot in lipstick? Because I already know.”

I rolled my eyes, but smiled. “No, smartass. Just… this. All of this. Feels like we blinked and ended up in a version of life that fits better than the one we thought we wanted.”

James didn’t answer right away. He just looked at me and reached for my hand.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “It really does.”

He glanced at me, one brow lifting... and then continued. “Well, I always imagined I’d end up in a place like this… eventually.” He nudged the takeout container closed, a thoughtful smile tugging at his lips. “Not that we weren’t already stable. But this? It feels like one of those quiet milestones. The kind that makes you think about things like… settling down. Marriage, even.”

I blinked, genuinely surprised. Marriage had never really come up between us before. Not seriously, anyway. We’d tiptoed into new territory together — lingerie, a new level of intimacy, but not rings. Not vows.

James must’ve read the hesitation on my face because he gave a sheepish laugh and looked down. “Okay, you’re freaking out.”

“No, I’m not,” I said, sitting up a little straighter. “I just didn’t expect that. That’s all.”

James gave a nervous smile. “Yeah… honestly, I didn’t plan to say it. It just kind of came out. But I’ve been thinking about it lately.”

“Since when?” I asked, more out of curiosity than alarm.

“I guess since the game started getting real attention. Since we started buying dresses, wigs, and… all this. I don’t know. It’s like… things feel more permanent now. Like we’re building something for real.”

I stayed quiet for a while, letting it settle in.

“I just want to make sure we’re building this the right way,” he added. “With everything out in the open. With all of it.”

I nodded slowly. “I want that too.”

===============================================================

To Be Continued…

====================================================

 

To all the readers, thank you for picking up this story and giving it your time. If you have reached here, I can only hope that you enjoyed reading it and will look forward to the upcoming parts. Please do leave your reviews, comments and feedback. It only encourages me to keep at it and trying harder. You can also contact me via email at iamheremma [at] proton.me or on Discord iamheremma .