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This thing between us, inappropriate and delicate, is more than just a fling.
Or… no. It’s not more than a fling.
I justkeep forgetting that.
“Dav—” she starts, frowning.
I realize I’ve waited too long to reply. “Laura. Good morning.”
“Sorry I fell asleep,” she says, rolling onto her back. Reluctantly, I pull my hands back. I sit up against my headboard.
She glances over at me. As she starts waking up, more and more of that nervousness comes back.
Though I should encourage it, I should let her feel a bit insecure if it means keeping that wall between us. I can’t help but immediately want to soothe her anxiety.
“Sleeping over was fine. My kids aren’t here.”
Her eyes widen. “Kids? I didn’t know you had kids.”
My brows raise. “The photos in the office?”
“Wow, I never noticed.” She shakes her head. “Kids! I feel like I should know that.”
“Do you have kids?” I ask, though I’m nearly positive of the answer.
“Hell no,” she says quickly. “I love them, but the Hunger Games really messed me up.”
“Hunger Games?” I question.
Surprisingly, she blushes. “Nothing. A book… Nothing.” Hesitating, she bites her bottom lip. “I would ask about them, but…”
My chest clenches. I nod. “That’s not what this is.”
“That’s not,” she agrees softly. Her hand reaches for me, and I lean towards her. Her fingers brush against my cheek, where my stubble has grown almost to a full, albeit thin, beard overnight. Her nails scrape against me gently, and I shiver.
“Laura,” I warn. Already, my body is starting to stir. The feeling she evokes in me… it’s unlike anything anyone else has ever made me feel. I’m seventeen again with Laura.
“David,” she teases. She gets to her knees, uncaring about her nakedness. I feel in awe of her.
The morning light gleams brightly through my bedroom window, and Laura sits on her knees, stretching up, naked. The curve of her belly is pronounced, soft white marks moving up her sides, her breasts hang heavy and tantalizing. Between her legs, the curly red hair of her pubic hair is impossible not to look at, to want more of.
She is impossible to not want more of.
“Thisisallowed,” she reminds me. She pulls me towards her, just by curling her fingers under my chin and dragging me.
I don’t need to be told twice.
She leans down, kissing me like a benediction. I take it all, wrapping my arms around her stomach. I cling to her, and she graces me with her tongue, her supple lips, her spit. I take anything she offers me.
Her hands grab my face, deepening our kiss. I press into her hips a little, and she gets the hint. Straddling me, she settles on my lap.
The weight of her—Jesus, theheatof her—is unlike anything else I’ve ever experienced.
I tilt my hips, just a little, and my dick stirs in interest. As her hands move down my shoulders, my chest, down my arms, across my stomach, everywhere she can reach, I wake up more and more.
I am gentle on her, certain that my hands and teeth would bruise her delicate skin if I am not careful. But when my lips and teeth start to worry her neck, sucking and lapping and biting, she writhes on my lap. Her moans fill the room, fill my head, mysoul.
My bare cock is right beneath her naked body. As she twitches and shifts and sighs, her body presses against mine. I can feel when she starts to get wet, her damp curls swiping across my hard cock.
