ILLICIT AFFAIRS | WLW

Guilty As Sin

𝐀𝐍: Hi, this is, of course, not proof read! Also, please don't judge me too harshly -- I think you guys all know by now how uncomfortable I am with writing smutty scenes but I TRIED. Not going to lie, I was originally planning to edge you all and just start the next chapter with the morning after, but I thought that was too mean :(

-----------

After having gently guided Blair out of her jeans, Catherine's hands rested on the girl's bare thighs, her fingers splayed wide, grounding both of them in the simple intimacy of the moment. She paused, lingering there as her gaze, soft and intent, studied every nuance that crossed Blair's face – her quickened breaths and the delicate flush that coloured her cheeks. Blair's nervous anticipation seemed to fill the air, colliding with the quiet confidence radiating from Catherine. She was, in every sense of the word, here for Blair.

With a small smile, she gently brought her hands up to envelop Blairs, their fingers lacing together in a gesture that felt both protective and inviting. She gave her hands a reassuring squeeze and softly tugged her upright, guiding her into the same sitting position as herself. When Blair's breathing steadied, Catherine released one hand, tracing a gentle path across Blair's arm.

"Take my pants off for me, darling." She murmured, her voice warm and low, filled with an unspoken assurance. There was not a command in her tone, but an invitation, a bridge across Blair's uncertainty toward this shared place of trust.

For a moment, Blair's cheeks flushed, her pulse quickening as she glanced up, her gaze meeting Catherine's steady eyes. She felt both exhilarated and exposed, the intense reality of the request settling over her. Her fingers found their way to the waistband of Catherine's trousers, hesitant at first, but emboldened by the unwavering encouragement from Catherine.

She worked at the button, her movements a slight fumble, charged with the weight of her own anticipation. But Catherine waited with a patience that seemed to wrap around Blair like a protective balm. She could feel her own heartbeat racing, pounding in her ears as she completed the task, and when the button finally came free, Blair exhaled – a soft breath that carried a mix of excitement and relief. Blair's hands moved with more confidence as she slid the fabric down, her fingers brushing along Catherine's hips, feeling the warmth radiate from her skin. It was as if each touch amplified the energy between them, every slight movement a reminder of the trust that had grown between them, a trust built in shared glances, quiet conversations, and now, in this vulnerable moment.

Meanwhile, as Blair lowered the trousers, Catherine's arms moved almost instinctively, her hands slipping around Blair's back and finding the clasp of her bra with an ease that left Blair momentarily breathless. With a deftness, a practised flick, the clasp came free, her touch as sure as it was light.

Catherine's hands drifted down, brushing along Blair's shoulders as the thin fabric slowly fell away. Blair felt a surge of vulnerability, a sense of exposure that left her chest tight with a mixture of nerves and anticipation. She could feel the older woman's hungry gaze moving over her, taking in every detail with a look of admiration that sent a shiver running down Blair's spine.

As the fabric fell away, Catherine leaned in to press a firm, grounding kiss to her lips, a single gesture that seemed to ground and steady Blair. She sensed Blair's uncertainty melt into a quiet sense of assurance, their feelings mirrored in a shared gaze. With a gentle hand, Catherine eased Blair back down onto the bed, her movements slow and deliberate. Blair allowed herself to relax, to sink into the moment, her heartbeat thrumming loudly in her chest once again as she watched Catherine with a heaving breath.

Catherine's knee moved between Blair's leg to part her thighs with a quiet authority that left no question as to what her intentions were. Her gaze swept over Blair's face, gauging her expression, waiting for that final, unspoken affirmation.