Girlfriend For Hire 🔥

Melting

As Michael sped through the rain-slicked streets in his limousine, his mind was a whirlwind of panic. The earlier phone call from Anica had been fraught with distress, and now, as he saw the crumpled form of her car, a cold fear gripped him. The car was mangled, a testament to a potentially catastrophic crash. The sight of it was enough to make his heart race, but it was the realization that Anica could be inside that truly terrorized him.

When Michael threw open the door, he was greeted by the sight of Anica sitting inside the wrecked vehicle. Her eyes were wide and filled with tears, her body trembling uncontrollably. The moment he saw her, a wave of relief crashed over him, dulling the edge of his fear. She was shaken but seemed unharmed.

He rushed to her, his hands trembling as he gently checked her head and body for any signs of injury. His voice was a mix of urgency and concern. "Anica, are you okay? Please, talk to me. Did you hit your head? Is there anywhere that hurts? Tell me—does it hurt here?" His hands slid lower, pressing softly at her sides, his fingers lingering, afraid to miss anything. "How about here—your ribs, your stomach—anything?" His voice cracked slightly, the fear gripping him tighter with each passing second.

Anica, still in shock, could barely respond. Her eyes, red and swollen from crying, locked onto his, but she didn't have the strength to speak. Instead, she let out soft, broken sobs. Michael, his heart aching at the sight, gathered her into his arms, his embrace firm but gentle. His voice was barely more than a whisper as he murmured soothingly, "It's okay. I'm here. I'm so glad you're okay. Please stop scaring me like this," he murmured, his lips brushing against her hair, the vulnerability in his voice laying bare how much she meant to him.

With an almost desperate tenderness, Michael carefully lifted her out of the car. His movements were both cautious and protective, ensuring she was as comfortable as possible. As he carried her to the limousine, he kept her close, his breath warm against her hair. He placed her inside the vehicle and continued to hold her, his kisses on her forehead mingling with his soft, anxious words. "Anica, please, tell me if you're hurt anywhere. Just tell me you're okay."

Anica, still overwhelmed by the emotional and physical shock, pointed to her chest with a trembling hand. "I love you," she said softly through her tears. "It hurts here... so much."

Michael's heart ached at her words. The simple, heartfelt gesture struck him deeply. He was torn between wanting to laugh at her pure, innocent expression of love and being consumed by the guilt of almost losing her. His hands cupped her face as he leaned in close, his own eyes glistening with unshed tears.

"It's going to be okay," he whispered, his voice choked with emotion. "Everything will be okay, I promise." His words were both a reassurance to her and to himself. He clung to her, his arms wrapped tightly around her, as if to shield her from any further pain.

The sight of her car, now a twisted wreck, had sent Michael's fear spiraling, but seeing Anica safe in his arms was a profound relief. The terror of the situation began to fade as he focused on the woman he loved, determined to protect and cherish her. As the limousine drove away, Michael held her close, silently vowing to never let anything come between them again.

********

As Michael guided Anica into the house, the tremors from her earlier shock hadn't fully subsided. Her face still bore the traces of fear from the accident, and her anguish over seeing him with Lisa Marie remained painfully evident. Though her sobs had softened, they still lingered, leaving trails of tears on her cheeks—tears Michael tenderly wiped away but that never seemed to stop.

"I'll help you shower, okay?" he murmured, his voice soft but steady.

Leading her into the bathroom, he turned on the water, letting the warmth fill the room. He helped her undress, her vulnerability so raw, and it took everything in him not to let his desires overtake his concern. They stepped into the shower together, and Michael, ever gentle, kissed her forehead, then her cheek, his lips barely grazing her skin. He lathered the soap in his hands and washed her as if she were a delicate flower, his touch tender and respectful. He ran his fingers through her hair, massaging her scalp, and then wrapped her in a soft towel, drying her with care.