Please, with a Cherry on top? | 18+

15 | Cerise

I'm melting.

Cerise thought to herself, fingers curling around a small brush as she smoothed gel onto her edges.

Satisfied with the finished result, she couldn't help but giggle as her fingers drifted to the bow in her hair. She began giddily twirling around in the bathroom all while grinning.

Operation CWS was a success!

Okay, admittedly it didn't quite go the way she planned, but she couldn't complain over a win.

While she lay awake the night prior with the neck of the borrowed shirt lifted to her nose, inhaling the smell of Saint, all she wished for was another opportunity to be touched by him.

Perhaps she was a bit touch-starved, but every brush against him or the slightest pressure of his hand on her body had caused her panties to dampen.

Cerise bit her lip while smoothening out her dress, her fingertips lingering as they passed over the curves of her waist. She could still feel the heat of his hands as he held her, lifting and placing her wherever he pleased.

Saint had set her on the counter like a fragile vase, and she swore that she could still feel the control of his fingers as he refrained from touching her too roughly.

Eventually, it would have to be known that Cerise liked it a little rough.

She held a small fantasy of being marked. Adorning love bites in sensitive areas, being constantly reminded of moments of passion when seeing the outline of fingers drawn on her hips from being held so fiercely like her lover never wanted to let her go. The thrill of coming up with excuses for a bruise on her neck, when in reality she's thinking back to how she allowed complete access to earn it.

Cerise knew Saint could fulfill every aspect of that fantasy.

And likely exceed it.

The more innocent side of her only craved to have his arms wrapped around her, but she didn't just want a hug.

That was too easy.

She wanted to cuddle. To sleep next to him, or just lay by his side and admire his features for hours.

So she started up Operation CWS: Cuddle With Saint.

She had only come up with the name for the plan when she had heard that window shaking. The rest of the scheme had worked itself out through improv.

Cerise had steeled her nerves and asked to at least stay in his presence, and she hoped she was correct in predicting that Saint wouldn't be okay with having her sleep on the floor.

She did think that he might try to do so himself, but that thought was shattered when she realized that his bed was large enough that he could probably lie down on it sideways if he tried.

She was too nervous to inch closer to him once they finally settled down. Thus she postponed her plan and surrendered to the weight of her eyelids as they closed. If she were a fly on the wall that night she would discover that her unconscious self had finished the plan for her.

She had wiggled closer to him in her sleep, and unknowingly, lidded green eyes watched her every movement in the dark until an arm reached out and tugged her to his side, only blinking closed when her soft snores resumed.

Any allegations that she planned it all would be rejected because technically... she didn't.

Cerise wasn't prepared to wake up by his side halfway through the night.

Just like how she wasn't prepared to feel his hand on her ass, the large palm keeping it warm for what were likely hours.

And poor Cerise, nearly moaning aloud when he roughly gripped a cheek and then ran his hand over it during her attempts to wake him. She doesn't think he was even aware he touched her like that.