Buttercup stood in the kitchen in front of a pan of sizzling bacon. She wore one of the long button-down dress shirts Rhychard forgot he even owned. They apparently hadn't found pants for her because as she stretched to reach for some plates, the shirt rode up her thin legs exposing the bottom curves of her firm ass, the flesh slightly paler than the rest of her body. Rhychard's eyebrows went up as he shifted in his seat, but he didn't look away. He couldn't no matter how much decency said he should. She had showered and finished scraping the remaining makeup off that had plastered her face. The transformation was stunning. Her obsidian hair hung straight and loose down her back in a soft waterfall instead of the hair-sprayed curls that had before sat there like a crude bird's nest. Her br
