CHAPTER 63: PHARMACY NIGHT WITH RACHEL [1] [R-18 CONTENTS!]

"Rachel," I said quietly, "if you need me to stabilize the process, there’s no better time than right now."

Her body stiffened, shoulders rising, her hands pausing mid-motion as though every muscle had frozen under the weight of my words. She knew exactly what I meant; there was no mistaking it.

"H...here?" She whispered, her voice small, almost shy.

"It’s cramped, sure," I admitted, my eyes roaming the narrow pharmacy backroom where shelves hemmed us in. "But it’s just us. No one’s going to walk in. Not your sister, not the others. It’s safer here than anywhere else. At home we’d risk too much, and I don’t want to drag this out. You’ve already felt the first symptoms."

My tone softened then.

"If we wait, the pain’s only going to worsen."

Her lips parted but no words came. She was caught between hesitation and necessity. The blush painting her cheeks betrayed both her embarrassment and her understanding.

"I... I know you’re right," she finally breathed.

Relief threaded through me, though it was laced with the same awkward heat that reddened her face. I nodded, forcing myself to sound calm, steady, while my pulse quickened. "Then just... tell me when you’re ready."

I stood, scanning the cluttered room. The stained floor would be mercilessly cold against her skin, and the pharmacy’s hall outside was even less suitable—dark, filthy, smelling of mold. My gaze landed on the heavy desk shoved against the wall. Its surface wasn’t perfect, but it would do.

When I turned back, Rachel was already slipping out of her jacket. The sight startled me. She stood in a simple blue shirt, gripping her arm as though holding herself together. She looked so shy, so reluctant, and yet she hadn’t turned away.

"On the table’s better," I told her gently. "It’s warmer than the floor at least. But it’s your choice."

She stepped past me, so close I caught her scent—fresh soap and something warmer beneath, something uniquely her.

My heart skipped.

This was happening again, but different now; not under threat, not as raw coercion, but mutual acceptance.

Anyway, it was dark her so I placed the torchlight in one of the shelves to point directly toward me and Rachel and I did the same thing with Rachel’s torchlight positioned at a differently location but also pointed toward us.

I didn’t want to miss anything to be honest...

She brushed off the dust, leaned back against the desk, and dropped her gaze, fingers worrying at the edge. "This... feels more embarrassing than the first time," she confessed softly. "I’m more nervous now."

"Yeah," I murmured, tugging my jacket off, my throat dry. "I know."

The first time, I’d shoved down my emotions, hardened myself to what I was doing. But now... now I’d grown closer to her. That made this infinitely more intimate—and infinitely more difficult.

Her hands trembled slightly as they reached for her belt. She unfastened it, slipped her shoes aside, and began tugging down her pants, revealing long, pale thighs, the curve of her hips, the softness of her legs. I bent, catching her discarded clothes and placing them neatly beside mine, my chest heavy with anticipation.

She stood before me in her shirt and a modest pair of blue panties, her cheeks flushed so deep it looked like she might burn up. I could feel her embarrassment thrumming in the air between us, and though the sight was undeniably erotic, I couldn’t ignore her nerves.

"Rachel..." I stepped closer, my hand lifting, fingertips brushing her cheek. Her skin was warm, trembling under my touch.

She shivered, then slowly raised her eyes to mine.

"Tell me if you don’t like it," I whispered, and before she could answer, I leaned in and caught her lips.

"Hhmm!" Her eyes widened, surprise flashing across her face. But then her lips softened under mine, hesitant at first, then answering, moving tentatively as if learning how to kiss for the first time.

Her taste filled me, soft and sweet, and I knew this had to be different. The first time had been mechanical, necessary, devoid of joy for her. This time I wanted to draw her out of her fear, to make her body relax, to make her remember this as something good.

I let my hand slip from her cheek down the line of her neck, my thumb grazing her throat before resting lightly against her collarbone. She made a faint sound—"mmnnh"—half-moan, half-whimper, that melted straight through me.

Her fingers dug tighter into the desk edge, knuckles pale from the pressure, while I leaned closer, my chest brushing hers. One of her trembling hands I caught in mine, holding it firm so she wouldn’t feel like she was hanging there alone in her nerves. My other hand stayed at her cheek, stroking gently as our lips moved together.

When I finally broke the kiss, a silver thread of spit clung between us, stretching then snapping. Rachel’s lips glistened, parted as she breathed heavily, the softest hint of moisture shining at their corners. Her cheeks burned with color, and when her green eyes lifted to mine, they held a glimmer that left me swallowing hard.

"Ryan..." She whispered, voice hoarse from breathlessness.

God, she was beautiful—green eyes glowing under the dim light, lips swollen from kissing, her hair a little messy around her face. I couldn’t resist more. My hand slid down, resting against the swell of her breasts, cupping her through the thin cotton of her shirt.

She gasped softly, her body twitching in surprise, but when I lifted my gaze to hers, she only turned her head away, cheeks hotter than before. She didn’t protest, didn’t stop me.

I began undoing her buttons slowly, one by one, savoring the small sound of the threads loosening, the gradual reveal. The only soundtrack was our mingled breathing—ragged, uneven, charged. When the last button slipped free, I eased the fabric apart, baring a glimpse of light-blue lace stretched across the weight of her chest.

My breath caught.

Her breasts were just as I remembered—full, heavy, straining the bra, her cleavage deep and flawless. My pulse thudded so loudly it filled my ears.

Unable to resist, I bent and pressed a lingering kiss against the soft swell above the lace.

"Hmh~" The sound escaped her lips unbidden, a quiet shiver of pleasure that made my cock throb instantly in response.

My hands cupped her firmly now, kneading gently through the fabric, feeling their shape, the heat of her body radiating into my palms. She was perfection—every curve, every line, the kind of beauty that you never forget once you see it, the kind you can’t help but crave.

"Can I... see them?" My voice came low, heavy with need, but still I waited, still I asked. This time I wasn’t going to rip, wasn’t going to take—this had to be hers to allow.

Rachel didn’t answer with words. She slipped her arms out of her sleeves, letting the shirt slide down her arms, pooling at her waist. Then her fingers moved behind her back, fumbling briefly with the clasp before it snapped loose.

The bra fell slack, and she pulled it away with deliberate slowness, revealing herself fully to me.

My breath hitched.

Her breasts spilled free, perfect and heavy, her pink almost red nipples already tightened into stiff peaks. The light caught on her skin, smooth and flushed, every inch begging to be touched, kissed.

For a moment she folded her arms beneath them, as though the instinct to shield herself from my hungry gaze had risen again. But then, almost stubbornly, she let her arms drop, baring herself completely.

I reached out cupping her left breast, feeling its weight settle into my palm. The skin was warm, the nipple hard against the base of my thumb.

"Haa...R...Ryan," she gasped, body tensing at the sudden contact. Maybe my hand was colder than she expected, maybe it was simply the shock of my touch.

"They’re beautiful," I whispered, squeezing gently, letting her feel the appreciation in my touch. My voice dropped even lower, huskier, unable to hold back. "You’re beautiful, Rachel. All of you."

Her lips parted, eyes flickering with a mix of embarrassment and something warmer, softer. She didn’t answer, but the way her chest rose and fell under my hand told me she’d heard it, felt it.

I lowered my head, my mouth tracing kisses across the curve of her breast until I reached her nipple, my lips brushing over it teasingly. She shuddered under me, her breath hitching, her hand clutching at my shoulder for balance.

"Haan..."

My lips closed fully around her nipple, tongue circling slowly over the stiffened bud while my hand squeezed the weight of her breast in rhythm.

"Haa—aaah~" Rachel’s cry slipped out before she could stifle it, her back arching slightly, chest pushing against me as though begging for more. Her green eyes squeezed shut, teeth catching her lower lip.

I suckled lightly, then harder, tugging the sensitive peak between my lips, flicking my tongue against it. My other hand moved to her right breast, kneading, rubbing the tip between two fingers until it stiffened to match.

"Ryan... hhhhnn..." She whimpered, her nails biting lightly into my shoulder through my shirt.

Every sound she made only fed the heat curling low in my belly. I trailed my mouth from one nipple to the other, covering her soft flesh in small kisses, bites, licks—feeling her chest until it glistened faintly with my saliva.

Her thighs shifted against the desk, rubbing together restlessly. That subtle movement drew my attention downward, and as I kissed the valley of her breasts, my free hand slipped lower.

Over her flat stomach, tracing her trembling waist, then settling at the curve of her hip. My fingers brushed the waistband of her panties. The fabric was thin, damp with heat, clinging tight against her mound.

The moment I pressed my hand there, even over the cloth, she gasped sharply.

"Haaannn—!" Her eyes flew open, her blush deepening as she looked down at where my hand rested.

I kissed her nipple again, murmuring against her skin. "Rachel... you’re already soaked."

She turned her face away, embarrassed, her breath shuddering. But her body betrayed her, hips shifting slightly against my palm as if she couldn’t help seeking the pressure.

I rubbed my hand slowly up and down, the heel of my palm grazing over the damp spot in her panties. The heat radiating through the fabric was staggering.

"Hmnnnhhh... R...Ryan..." Her legs trembled, knees pressing together only to part again in frustration.

I let two fingers trace along the outline of her slit, the wetness seeping through enough that I could feel her folds beneath the barrier of lace. I pressed gently, dragging upward until I found the stiff nub hidden there. Even through the panty, her clit reacted, her body jolting as she let out a desperate, high-pitched moan.

"Haaa~ ohhh goddd..."

Her voice quivered, her grip on the desk so tight her knuckles were pale. She couldn’t stop shaking under the teasing strokes of my fingers.

"Does it feel good?" I whispered, my lips brushing her ear now as I continued flicking at her nipple with my tongue.

She didn’t answer with words. Her hips rolled up against my hand involuntarily, her moan breaking into a soft, helpless whimper.

I pressed the soaked fabric tighter against her pussy, rubbing slowly, feeling her heat and wetness spread under my fingertips. Each stroke grew heavier, dragging her panties against her folds until the material was nearly plastered to her skin.

Her breath came in ragged gasps, her body twisting between trying to hold back and giving in. "Hhhhnnnn... R...Ryan... please...hm!"

I kissed her neck, biting lightly at the tender skin there, while my hand teased back and forth, building the friction over her clit through the drenched cloth. Her nipple slipped from my lips with a wet pop, but I caught the other breast, sucking hard, rolling the nipple between my teeth just as my fingers circled faster against her pussy.

"Haaaan!"

Rachel’s thighs clenched around my hand, her whole body jerking as her voice broke into a strangled cry. Her cunt pulsed against my fingers through the fabric, hips trembling uncontrollably as the wave of her climax washed over her.