RIta's Point Of View
Charles chuckled quietly, the vibration rumbling through his chest where my cheek still rested. He reached over to the counter, grabbed a fresh, dry hand towel, and carefully wiped away the remaining traces of our morning madness from my chin and throat. His movements surprised me with their gentleness… unexpected from a man with hands that large, hands that moments ago had gripped me with such commanding intensity.
After he finished cleaning me up, he didn't even let me walk to the closet on my own feet. He practically insisted on selecting my clothes himself… a simple, comfortable knit top and a pair of tailored trousers, and helped me dress, sliding the fabric over my still-tingling skin. He slipped in a few inappropriate pinches that made me swat his hands away, though we both knew my protests lacked any real conviction.
