Capítulo 138: Chapter 138: I Swear to the Light [NSFW]
[Chapter 138: I Swear to the Light]
After Eric was turned away, Aniston leaned against the door with a smug expression, contemplating how to mock him if he knocked again. She decided that tonight, she wouldn't give him any favors. Whether he stayed overnight depended on his performance.
As the minutes ticked by with no sound from outside, Aniston's confidence began to waver. "Humph, he must be up to something. Don't think I'll fall for it."
Despite her mutterings, curiosity got the better of her. She leaned over to peek through the peephole. The corridor lights were off, and it was pitch black outside.
"Damn it, he must be lurking in the dark, waiting for me to open the door," she thought, unease creeping in. After five minutes of silence, she cracked the door open, activating the voice-activated lights in the hallway with a stomp. However, the anti-theft chain restricted her view, revealing only an empty corridor shrouded in silence.
Pulling out the pin of the security chain, Aniston opened the door wider and stepped out.
A familiar laugh rang from her right, followed by two strong arms lifting her off the ground.
"Ah!" she squealed, realizing who it was, yet she still struggled against Eric's hold.
"You jerk! Help me!"
Eric tightened his grip and carried her into the apartment. He shut the door behind them and playfully slapped her on the butt.
"Snap!" The sting sent a mix of shame and anger through Aniston, and she twisted in his hold. "That hurt! You bastard, put me down!"
He delivered another slap, lighter this time, but his hand lingered there, kneading her playfully. "Baby, stop screaming, or the neighbors will call the cops."
Aniston smacked his back a few times. "Who let you in? You're breaking and entering!"
"Wow, such a serious accusation! You're not going to shoot me, are you?" he grinned, plopping her onto the sofa in the living room. Freed, Aniston grabbed a pillow, sat cross-legged, and glared at him.
Eric strolled to the fridge, opened it, and pulled out a can of beer, shaking it toward her. "Look what I found!"
She turned her head away defiantly. "It's not for you! I bought it for myself!"
"Tsk tsk," Eric sat across from her, cracking open the can and taking a few gulps. "Well, this beer tastes great."
"Whatever, the beer's finished. You can leave now; I need to sleep." Just then, a knock echoed from the door, accompanied by a man's voice. "Ms. Aniston, are you okay?"
Both froze, and Aniston quickly replied, "We disturbed the neighbors."
"You're the one yelling," Eric countered, rubbing his nose.
"That's your fault too," she shot back, getting up to answer the door with Eric following. Outside stood a middle-aged couple; the man brandished a baseball bat while the woman held a shotgun, looking apprehensive.
"Ms. Aniston, we heard you screaming," the man said, eyeing Eric with suspicion.
With a smile, Aniston explained, "Sorry, Mr. Bateman. I disturbed you. My boyfriend just played a prank on me."
"Hello, Mr. Bateman. I'm Eric, sorry for the inconvenience." Eric shook hands with the couple.
"It's okay," Mr. Bateman replied, exchanging pleasantries before declining their invitation for coffee and leaving with his wife.
...
As soon as the door shut, Aniston released Eric's arm and returned to the sofa. Eric sat beside her, wrapping her in his embrace. She resisted momentarily before leaning against him.
"Jenny, have you been in touch with your father lately?"
"Yeah, why do you ask?" she replied, lifting her head slightly.
"What's John been up to?" he inquired.
"I'm not sure," Aniston said, fidgeting. "I just know he's been busy acting the past few years."
"Could you ask him if he'd be interested in producing a TV series?" Eric suggested.
"TV series?" Aniston echoed, confused.
"It's the show we discussed before, the one you're supposed to be in," he clarified.
"You mean you want my dad as the producer?" she asked, surprised.
Eric nodded. "Jeffrey isn't reliable for this, and we can't find anyone trustworthy. I want to keep Fox out of it, so I thought of your dad."
Aniston felt a twinge of irritation. So, he hadn't come just to see her. That was frustrating. Breaking free from his embrace, she huffed, "You came here tonight just for that?"
"Of course not! I missed you!" Eric exclaimed, kissing her before she could react.
"Um... don't do that, I haven't..." she mumbled, but her words faded as Eric's tongue slipped into her mouth. His hands slid beneath her pajama hem, and touched her chest along her smooth skin.
His palm quickly covered the soft breast flesh, and with a few skillful touches, Aniston's body trembled slightly, and soon collapsed. Eric took the opportunity to push the girl down on the sofa.
After an intense kiss, Eric glanced at her dazed expression, his smile annoying her further. She pinched his leg in retaliation.
"Ouch! You're cruel! Just wait and see how I handle you!" Eric chuckled, gripping her hands and pinning them over her head. He lifted her pajamas off, exposing her to him.
With a soft gasp, Aniston curled up instinctively, trying to shield herself. "Eric, can we go to the bedroom instead?"
"No way! I'm angry and want to punish you right here." He stepped back, stripped her completely, revealing her bare form.
Shivering in the cool air, Aniston curled up like a cat, protesting, "I should be the one angry! You owe me an apology for that day! And you put me in a TV series while letting that woman star in a movie. How unfair!"
Ignoring her complaints, Eric began to undress.
Moments later, Aniston felt his warm body pressing against her cold skin, urging her closer. When she looked up, she saw his excitement, causing her to roll her eyes playfully.
Eric knelt on the sofa, lifting her legs and caressing them. He spread them apart, leaning in.
"It feels... a little dry," he murmured, then pushed inside her. Surprised, Aniston's eyes widened, and she quickly retracted one leg, kicking at his chest. "Asshole, stop!"
After a moment, she whimpered, "It's cold in here, I can't feel anything. I told you to go to the bedroom."
"It's fine. You'll warm up soon," Eric said, thrusting deeply. Aniston instinctively arched her back, welcoming him, though she pleaded, "Please don't go in any further."
"Don't worry, I know my limits," he assured her, lifting her waist and moving with urgency.
Breathless, Aniston complained, "You're so selfish, only thinking of yourself!"
Time slipped by, and eventually, the intensity subsided. Aniston lay back, glistening with sweat, her body weak yet unable to resist his movements. Her legs rested softly on his shoulders.
"I'll die if you do that again," she gasped, looking up at Eric, who was equally breathless.
The night air drifted through the balcony, chilling her skin. Noticing her shivers, Eric paused, lifting her up and carrying her to the bathroom. He ran warm water in the tub, settling them inside together.
Relaxed against his chest, Aniston savored the warmth, narrowing her eyes in bliss. If only he wasn't pressing against her from behind.
Eric applied shower gel, teasing her with his touch. "You're done, but I'm not," he said with a grin.
"Whatever, take care of it yourself," she replied, too comfortable to even open her eyes.
He continued to caress her body, reminding her, "Didn't anyone teach you to finish what you started?"
"Not really, but I heard a story about Washington and the cherry tree — about honesty. Then some jerk told me it was all a lie and that there was no cherry tree in Washington's backyard," she recounted.
"Interesting," Eric laughed, "but the textbook has good intentions."
"It's so ironic to educate others by deceiving others. Later, I lost interest in studying. I don't want to look back after I grow up and find that the education I received was all fake. There is no cherry tree, Edison did not save his mother, and Newton was not hit by an apple..."
"I see," Eric nodded.
Aniston lifted her chin defiantly. "What do you mean by that?"
Eric gently twisted the nipples in his hand and said with a smile: "I see you're trying to change the subject. But don't worry, you can't escape tonight."
"I'm going to bed," she declared, attempting to stand, but Eric pulled her back.
"You think you can run? Not a chance," he said, grinning.
"It's too much! I can't take it anymore!" she protested, flailing to escape his grip.
Eric felt the slippery buttocks in the water rubbing against his little brother and smiled wickedly: "It just so happens that there is water here for lubrication."
"Hmm, ah?" Before Aniston could react, Eric pressed her to the edge. She immediately protested, "It's swollen, this... this position won't work, it's too deep."
"It'll be no problem," Eric grinned wickedly. He pressed the girl's waist with a little force, aimed his wet erection at the right position, and before Aniston could react, he broke through and went straight in.
"Woooa ..."
...
"Jenny?"
"Get off!"
"Baby..."
"Don't touch me."
"I'll... apply some medicine."
"Ugh, why don't you just kill me, you bastard."
"I didn't know it would be like this. It was fine before."
"Go away and play with that busty woman's ass, you pervert. I'm breaking up with you."
"Just let me take care of you first. I'll leave afterward."
In the dimly lit bedroom, Aniston lay beneath a quilt, seemingly bare beneath the covers. Eric sat beside her, holding a medicine box, his voice low and soothing as he tried to persuade her.
Finally, the girl fell silent and shifted slightly. Eric interpreted her movement as consent. He unscrewed the ointment, carefully lifted the sheet from her back, and noticed her bury her face deeper into the pillows.
After applying the medicine, he gently pulled a thin blanket over her and headed to the bathroom to wash his hands. When he returned, the clock on the bedside table read past one in the morning. He quietly lay down beside Aniston, pulling the quilt around himself as he settled in.
...
In the darkness, a long silence enveloped them before Aniston's soft voice broke through: "Eric, don't do this again."
"I promise I won't."
After a brief moment, there was more rustling, and Aniston turned towards him, shifting closer.
"Jenny, you... you'd better sleep on your stomach tonight."
"Hmm..." she murmured, continuing to wiggle until she nestled against him. Suddenly, she bit his chest playfully and said, "I want to sleep on you."
"Of course," Eric replied with a smile, wrapping his arms around her smooth waist, feeling the warmth of her body against him.
After a moment, Aniston's breath brushed against his chest as she asked, "Eric?"
"Yeah?"
There was a hint of embarrassment in her tone, mixed with curiosity. "Are you comfortable like this?"
"Well," he hesitated, unsure how to respond. He really didn't want to delve into this topic. After a pause, he said, "I guess so. It's... a very different feeling."
Aniston pressed on, "Do they... can they handle it?"
Eric gently stroked her back and replied earnestly, "There's no one else like this. There's only you."
She lightly hit him, skeptical. "I don't believe you."
In the darkness, Eric raised his hands defensively. "I swear to the lights!"
"But the lights are off now."
"Okay, sleep tight. I have to get up early tomorrow. The crew starts filming at eight."
"What about me? Are you just going to leave me here?" she asked, biting him again.
"It's not a serious injury; you'll be fine by morning."
Her bite was sharper this time, and he wondered if it had drawn blood. Rubbing his chest, he pondered for a moment before suggesting, "What if I find someone to look after you?"
Aniston shook her head vigorously. "That's too embarrassing! If anyone finds out, I'll break up with you."
Reluctantly, Eric abandoned the idea. After a moment's thought, he offered, "Alright, I'll do my best to prepare your meals and try to come by at noon. But Jenny, if filming gets delayed for even a day, it'll cost the crew over a hundred thousand dollars. I can't afford to let that happen."
"Okay," she replied, finally content. She adjusted her position, finding a more comfortable spot against him, and soon drifted off to sleep.
*****
https://www.patreon.com/Sayonara816.
Estado de energía semanal
-- Ranking de
Poder 
-- Piedra de
Poder