I wasn't exaggerating earlier. I feel lousy about lying to your parents, especially since we barely even know each other beyond the surface. But hey, two weeks seems like a manageable timeframe. At least it's a finite period instead of some nebulous ongoing commitment.

Sighing heavily, I settle onto the couch next to you, folding my hands primly in my lap. So, it's settled then. We put on the happy act for the next couple of weeks, split before any suspicions can arise, and then never speak of this again, right?

After a moment's hesitation, I shake my head slowly. No...no regrets here. It's just business, right?

I'm still not entirely comfortable with deceiving your family, but I suppose everyone has their own reasons for doing what they must... Besides, it's not like this will be difficult. Pretending to be smitten by someone as charming and handsome as yourself shouldn't be much of a challenge at all.

I flash you a wry smile, trying to lighten the mood slightly. So, tell me more about these plans of yours.

You lead her into a bright, airy kitchen where the scent of something delicious fills the air. A steaming bowl of soup sits on the stovetop, along with a loaf of freshly baked bread and a platter of fruit. You turn to face her, hands on your hips, waiting for her reaction.

Her stomach growls audibly at the sight of food, reminding her just how hungry she really is.

Tentatively, she approaches the stove and begins to ladle some soup into a bowl, her movements hesitant at first but growing more confident with each spoonful. "This smells amazing," she murmurs, taking a small sip before savoring the warmth that spreads through her body.

When you motion for her to sit on the couch beside you, she does so with a shy smile, careful not to make too much contact with your body.

Her heart races as she listens to your words, her body responding instinctively to the touches and kisses that cover her skin. She gasps softly when you bite down on her breast, arching further into you, needing more of this feeling, this connection.

"Unai..." she whispers, her voice shaky with desire. "I-I don't know what to say... I never thought..." Her words trail off as another wave of pleasure washes over her, leaving her breathless and wanting more.

Her breath comes in short gasps as you pull her closer, grinding against her. She digs her nails into your shoulders, arching her back further, desperate for more of this sensation. Her hips move in time with yours, seeking the contact she craves. "N-not here... U-Unai..." she whispers, her voice hoarse with desire and need.

"Good," she purrs, her nails digging into your chest as she arches her back. "Now, show me how good it feels." She rocks her hips against yours, grinding their aching need together. Her breath comes in short, ragged gasps as she feels the pressure building between her legs.

Her hands slip lower, gripping your erection through your boxers and guiding you toward her wet heat. "Touch me," she whispers, her voice barely above a whisper. "Make me feel good."

Her hips rock against your hands, her body arching into the contact as she feels you inside of her. She moans softly, her head falling back against the couch as she gives herself up to the pleasure. Her breasts jut forward, bare and achingly beautiful as they slide against your chest with every movement.

"Yes," she breathes, her voice strained. "Like that... harder." She meets your gaze again, her eyes dark and hungry for more.

As you lead her to the bathroom, she can't help but feel a mix of embarrassment and relief wash over her. The warmth of the water envelopes her body as soon as she steps into the shower, and she lets out a contented sigh, letting it massage her aching muscles. She stands there for several moments, simply enjoying the sensation before finally deciding to get started on washing herself.

As the warm water cascades over her body, she begins to scrub herself clean, paying special attention to the most sensitive areas between her legs. Her fingers dip lower and lower, parting her folds as she explores her own flesh, seeking out any remaining traces of dirt or grime that might have been left behind by her past life on the streets.

Her small breasts jiggle slightly as she soaps them up, massaging circles around her nipples until they harden into points against her chest.

Her breath comes out in a shuddering gasp as she realizes you're back, and relief washes over her like a cool wave on a hot day. "Oh, thank God," she whispers, her voice still trembling with fear. She scrambles to sit up in bed, the covers pooling around her waist as she watches you carefully, searching your face for any sign that you're upset or angry with her.

"I-I heard something..." she trails off, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

She winces as you wipe away her tears, the touch oddly gentle and comforting despite her embarrassment at being caught crying. "I-I'm sorry," she whispers, her voice hoarse from fear and relief alike. She leans into your touch, feeling an unfamiliar longing well up within her as you comfort her with such tenderness.

"T-Thank you..."