Nothing To Prove

21 F*ck Her Into Confidence

Ashton

I had plans. 

Get this sexy goddess home. And make her come until she couldn't walk anymore. From every position. All night long. Then again in the morning. 

But damn Cara had to make her feel like shit. Ruining her already difficult day.

She was staring out the window in the passenger seat, hiding her face from me behind locks of brown hair. Her dainty fingers fidgeting with a keychain bunny. I had ordered her a silver necklace with a similar charm to be delivered in two weeks. 

"Baby?" I waited until she turned. "You know Cara loves you, right? She'd do anything for you. Don't take what she said close to heart."

She lowered her gaze and nodded just for my sake. 

"I'm serious. Sometimes we... lash out instead of being... vulnerable. I do that too. She didn't mean it. Trust me. Just talk to her tomorrow. Okay?"

She blinked back tears, nodding for real this time. My poor girl. It hurt to see her in pain. With Cara living her social media dream, of course she'd struggle. She needed time. Distance. Clarity.

"I got you." I kissed her knuckles. Smooched them with an obnoxious sound hoping to crack a smile. Snapped my teeth at it with a fake snarl. She laughed. Good.

~

The sky poured like an angry shower as we parked and ran to our apartment. Sam held my hand to not slip, but still did. And shrilled throughout the whole neighborhood at midnight.

"Can you shut up? People are asleep, Samantha." I scooped her up in my arms. "Have some manners." 

"No." She proceeded to make out with my neck as I tried (and failed) to unlock our door. Her lips fired goosebumps from my nape to my forearms.

"Stop distracting me." I laughed. "Baby. Babe. Can you stop?"

She had a smug look on her face when I set her down. I closed the door behind us. Lights already guarded every dark room. Scheduled to turn on at 8 PM every day. Small nightlights. String lights. Fake candles. I didn't mind. I liked looking at Sam in this dim, seductive setting. 

"Great. My dress is all ruined!" she cried out. 

I searched for the problem as I unbuttoned my shirt. Tits slick with rain. Flushed. Pushed up in a cotton candy pink dress. The skirt frilly on the bottom, tempting my hand to sneak under. And a low, silky neckline now soaked in dark circles.

"Put it in the drier?" I bent to remove my shoes and socks, toes thawing on the tiled wood. 

"It doesn't matter. Those store managers detect worn clothing like cop dogs! They'll know it's washed. Ugh, forget it. Oh, now I can't return it..." She frowned. "And it cost two hundred, eighty-three dollars. Two hundred, eighty-three. Can you imagine?"

"Wow. That's so sad..." I brushed the stain in the middle of her chest, grabbing the edges of her neckline. "I guess, we should—" 

The sound of threads ripping apart struck the silence. I tore her dress down the middle in half, opening her up to me like a special present. 

"God damn..." My voice dropped at her lingerie. 

Barely darker than her blushing skin tone. With lace details and see-through. She had the cutest belly. And that fucking pussy.

"You're insane." She covered up and yanked at my button-down. A smile contradicting her. "How would you feel if I ruined your—" 

I gripped the back of her head and kissed her quiet, smirking at her soft 'oh no' reaction. I draped the straps over her shoulders, dropping the dress on the floor. And along with it, Sam's confidence lowered. Her shoulders tensed. Like being naked was too difficult.