Pov Rinko Okino
Apartment of the outside, glittering nightscape, a stark contrast to the scene unfolding within the bedroom.
Sprawled across a bed of black silk sheets lay Rinko Okino, she was in her bra and panties with her skirt down her knees, revealing the flawless skin and perfect contours.
Her expression was anything but the sweet, manufactured smile known to her friends and family. It was a mask of raw, undiluted obsession.
Her fingers, with delicate gestures, were now tracing urgent, desperate patterns against her own glistening heat.
A single, pristine photograph was clutched in her other hand. It depicted a young boy, smiling and impossibly handsome, with a cascade of white hair shot through with silver streaks and eyes the color of a frozen sea.
A devil's charm played on his lips.
"My prince," she moaned, the sound a low, guttural vibration in the quiet room. Her hips arched off the bed. "Oh, my beautiful, beautiful prince. Do you remember me? Of course you do."
Her gaze was fixed on the image, her pupils blown wide.
She touched the photograph, kissing the glossy surface like living flesh.
"It's been so long, hasn't it?" she whispered, her voice a conspiratorial hiss.
"Five years, four months, and… eleven days. I've counted every single one, waiting for you. Thinking of you."
Her free hand slid lower, her nails lightly scraping the inside of her thigh. A sharp gasp escaped her painted lips.
"Ah! Just like that… when you grabbed my arm. So strong. You saved me, my prince. From that vile, fat old man. His touch was so disgusting, but yours… yours was divine."
She shifted, rolling onto her side to press the photograph against her cheek.
The fantasy was so vivid that it felt like a memory replaying behind her eyes: his scent, a heady mix of roasted coconut and something uniquely masculine, and the piercing intensity of his blue eyes locking onto hers.
"Your scent… it makes me dizzy," she murmured, a shudder wracking her frame.
"I still dream of it. Do you know how many I've let get close? I'm just hoping to smell it again. They all disappoint. They're all so… filthy, not like you. You're perfect. You're mine."
The climax washed over her not as a frantic, screaming release, but as a deep, possessing shudder that seemed to solidify her very bones.
Her body went taut, a low growl of profound pleasure vibrating in her chest.
Afterward, she didn't collapse into a languid puddle.
The satisfaction sharpened her resolve. She sat up, the skirt falling completely away.
With an unnerving calmness, she smoothed a stray strand of hair from her face and stared at the photo.
"I'm done waiting, my prince," Rinko declared to the unblinking image. Her voice was no longer pleading or lost in fantasy.
It was cold, clear, and filled with chilling purpose. "I will find you. And when I do," a slow, predatory smile stretched her lips, "you will never leave my side again."
-
Strange?
I looked out the window, curious as to why I felt such a connection to somthing, lust? Obsession.
'I'm not imagining things-'
I turn to eat my pancakes and savor the delicious butter and syrup.
At the small table, on my left was Tsukimi-chan, and on my right was Love-chan. They were sitting, dressed in oversized shirts, their faces flushed with a lazy, satisfied glow.
The rich smell of butter and cinnamon from the French toast.
The perfectly made pancakes, bowls of freshly cut strawberries, kiwi, and blueberries, and golden brown French toast dusted with powdered sugar that sparkled in the morning light on the table.
Both girls were humming as they ate.
This was love~.
But I knew what I was making~.