Page 48 of Tempted
The scent of her arousal hits me and I almostlose my mind. I place my forehead on her stomach, below her navel,and breathe her in.
“Please…don’t stop,” she begs.
I move back up her body but before I can sayanything, she flips over and straddles me. I know I should stopher, but I let her remove my jeans. I suck in a breath as she runsher fingers over my dick. She curls her fingers into the waist ofmy boxers and that’s when I snap out of my haze. I grab hershoulders and pull her into my arms.
“No, babe. No more.”
“But why?” She whines.
“Because we can’t.”
“Yes, we can. It’s perfectly legal. If you’reworried about people finding out, I won’t tell anyone. Ipromise.”
“I’m trying to fight temptation here. Don’tmake it harder.”
“What? Your dick?”
With a smile, she reaches down and grabs it,squeezing it in her tiny hand.
“Raven, stop.”
“Weren’t you the one who told me to submit,no,yieldto temptation?”
“Babe, please. I’m really trying here.”
“I’ve got a quote for you. Tom Wilson, ‘aboutthe only time losing is more fun than winning is when you’refighting temptation’. Don’t you want to have fun?”
“No.” I answer, even though it’s a fuckinglie.
“Ugh!”
She slides onto the bed but lays her head onmy chest. I try to concentrate on getting ahold of myself.
“I hate to say this, but maybe we shouldn’tsleep in the same bed until…after,” I tell her.
“Whatever.”
“Don’t be petulant.”
“I’m not petulant. I’m mad.”
“Well, don’t be mad, either. I promise I’llmake it up to you.”
“What. Ever.”
We lay in silence for a while before she sitsup and looks around the room.
“Do you have any paper…a pencil?”
“Downstairs in the living room. There’s adesk with all kinds of shit in there.”
She hops off the bed and returns with a sheetof paper, a clipboard, and a pencil. She sits cross-legged at thefoot of the bed and stares at me. “What?”
“Don’t move.”
I lace my fingers together under my head andstare up at the ceiling. She can’t stay mad all night. After awhile, she moves closer. She looks from me to the clipboard and Irealize she’s drawing me.
“Your face is perfect,” she says, more toherself than to me.
