Chapter 963: Officer Sarah Teasing Cleavage

Yuko immediately stood, took the tray from her with a quiet "Thank you," and moved back to the bed. She sat carefully on the edge—close to me now, but still mindful of the others—and blew gently on the first spoonful, cooling it with soft puffs of breath.

Her cheeks pinked as she felt all the eyes in the room on her—Julie, Lorena, Sarah, Marina, Gabriela, Samantha—all watching with varying degrees of amusement and warmth.

"Quickly heal yourself..." Yuko murmured, voice barely above a whisper as she brought the spoon to my lips. "Otherwise... Haruna might not forgive me..."

I took the bite—warm, savory—then looked around at the circle of women.

"Aunt Julie..." I said clearly, addressing the room. "Please don’t let Haruna know anything about this. It won’t be good for her to know about Yuko... and this was just a misunderstanding. I don’t want her dragged into guilt or drama."

Julie nodded immediately—serious, maternal.

"I know, sweetheart. We don’t want to harm the relationship between sisters. So Yuko..." She turned to the younger woman, voice gentle but firm. "Don’t worry. We’re not telling Haruna a thing. And you should never mention it again, either. Let it stay here—between us. Okay?"

Yuko’s eyes filled—slight tears brimming—but she nodded quickly, swallowing hard.

"Hmmmm..." she managed, voice thick. "Okay... thank you..."

She fed me another spoonful—hands steadier now—while the others watched in comfortable silence.

Sarah leaned against the wall again, smirking at me over Yuko’s head.

Good boy, she mouthed silently. Playing the saint while we all know you’re the devil.

Gabriela reached over and squeezed my ankle affectionately under the blanket—her fingers lingering, warm and teasing, tracing small circles that sent a lazy spark up my leg.

She kept her expression perfectly innocent for Yuko’s sake, but the sly little curl of her lips told me she knew exactly what she was doing.

Sarah, meanwhile, had grown bolder.

She stood casually behind Yuko—positioning herself so the younger woman couldn’t see her front—then reached up and popped the top two buttons of her shirt open with slow, deliberate movements.

The fabric parted like a curtain, revealing a deep, mouthwatering valley of cleavage—her full, heavy breasts pushed together by the motion, creamy skin glowing under the hospital lights, the black lace of her bra peeking out just enough to frame the soft mounds.

She pressed her arms together slightly—deepening the cleavage even more—until the inner curves nearly spilled over, nipples faintly visible as hard little points straining against the lace.

Yuko—still sitting on the edge of the bed, focused on feeding me soup—didn’t notice a thing. Her back was to Sarah, her attention entirely on the spoon she was blowing cool before bringing it to my lips.

Sarah caught my eye over Yuko’s shoulder.

Her smirk was pure sin.

She mouthed silently:

Like what you see?

I swallowed the spoonful of soup Yuko offered—warm, savory—but my throat suddenly felt tight for a different reason. My cock—already half-hard from the earlier teasing—gave a sharp throb beneath the blanket, thickening against my thigh, the head pushing insistently against the fabric of my pants. I shifted slightly, trying to hide the growing bulge, but the movement only made it worse.

Yuko tilted her head, noticing my slight flinch.

"Is it too hot?" she asked softly, concern creasing her brow. "I can blow on it more..."

I forced a small, reassuring smile.

"No... It’s perfect. Thank you, Yuko."

She smiled back—small, shy—and prepared the next spoonful.

Behind her, Sarah bit her lower lip to stifle a laugh. She arched her back just a fraction—making her tits thrust forward even more dramatically—then slowly dragged one finger down the center of her cleavage, tracing the deep line between her breasts.

She hooked the edge of her bra cup with her fingertip and tugged it down just enough to flash one dusky nipple—hard, dark, begging—before letting the fabric snap back into place.

My cock jerked hard—precum leaking against my pants now, a small wet spot forming under the blanket.

I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from groaning.

Sarah’s eyes sparkled with wicked delight. She mouthed again—silent, taunting:

Jealous yet? Wait till the plane... I’m sitting next to you.

Gabriela—still holding my ankle—noticed the tension in my body. Her fingers slid higher under the blanket—slowly, secretly—until they brushed the thickening length of my cock through the pants. She gave it one slow, firm stroke—thumb circling the head through the fabric—then squeezed gently.

Gabriela pulled her hand back just in time—sliding it smoothly out from under the blanket before Yuko could turn her head and notice the subtle movement.

She gave me a quick, conspiratorial wink, then sat up straighter, folding her hands innocently in her lap like she hadn’t just been stroking me under the covers.

Samantha, meanwhile, stood frozen near the foot of the bed—still flushed from everything earlier, fingers twisting the hem of her new skirt. Her eyes kept darting between me, Yuko, and the other women, like she wasn’t sure where to look or how to stand without drawing attention.

Julie noticed.

She glided over to Samantha with that slow, predatory grace she always had—casual, maternal on the surface, but pure mischief underneath.

She leaned in close—lips brushing the shell of Samantha’s ear—and whispered something too quiet for anyone else to hear.

Samantha’s reaction was immediate.

Her entire face ignited—cheeks going from pink to scarlet in half a second. Her eyes widened, then dropped to the floor as if the tiles had suddenly become the most fascinating thing in the world. She bit her lower lip hard, shoulders hunching slightly, and gave one tiny, shy nod—barely perceptible.

Julie pulled back with a satisfied little smile—patting Samantha’s arm as she’d just given her a perfectly reasonable instruction.

Samantha swallowed visibly, then glanced at me—eyes glassy, pupils blown, a fresh wave of heat crawling down her neck and disappearing under her blouse collar. Whatever Julie had said, it had clearly hit hard.

I finished the last spoonful of soup—Yuko’s careful, gentle feeding, leaving me warm inside—and leaned back against the pillows with a small, contented sigh.

Yuko set the bowl aside on the tray table, then reached for the napkin. Instead of using it, though, she hesitated... then lifted her bare hand. Her index finger brushed my lower lip—soft, tentative—wiping away a tiny drop of broth that had lingered at the corner of my mouth.

Her touch was feather-light, almost reverent. Her cheeks flushed a deep rose as she realized what she was doing—finger still resting against my lip for one heartbeat too long.

"Now..." she whispered, voice barely audible, eyes flicking down to my chest then quickly away again, "...lie down and rest for a while. Aunt Julie already booked the plane... it’s for tonight."

She swallowed hard—her finger finally retreating, but the warmth of it lingered on my skin.

I nodded slowly—holding her gaze for just a second longer than necessary.

"Thank you, Sister Yuko," I said quietly, letting my voice drop into that gentle, reassuring register she always melted for. "You’ve taken such good care of me."

Her blush deepened to scarlet. She ducked her head, tucking a damp strand of hair behind her ear.

"I... I just want you to be okay," she mumbled. "That’s all."

She stood—still hovering for a moment like she didn’t quite want to leave my side—then stepped back toward the couch, smoothing her sweater nervously.

Behind her, the other women watched the exchange with varying degrees of amusement and heat.