Weston was exactly the kind of guy who’d be good for me. “We could do this all the time.”Įven though I knew he was playing, I let myself think about it for the barest of moments. “Imagine if you stayed,” he whispered at my ear. That feels good.” My body began humming, ready to start climbing the spiral mountain of pleasure. “My plan is working then.” He circled his thumb slowly, teasing me. My thighs parted automatically for him, and his thumb slid along my bare pussy until he landed on my clit. “Weston…” I moaned, as his hand found its way up my skirt. “Shall we discuss them in detail or shall I let you remind me in other ways?” “Oh, I know several of your qualifications.” He maneuvered me around and pulled me onto his lap so I could feel his erection pressing into the curve of my back, confirming his lack of seriousness. How long had I wanted the life that he was dangling like a toy? “You don’t even know if I have any qualifications.” He was joking, so I laughed, but also my heart thumped harder. Who even likes L.A.? All that smog and superficiality. “You could have a job on this side of the country,” he said into my breasts. “You do,” I said, conciliatorily, stroking my fingers through his blond hair. Suddenly feeling bad, I stepped toward him and hugged him to my chest.
“I have a job,” he said, somewhat defensively. I smiled demurely and stepped into my skirt. I wasn’t born of the means to not have to work like some other people.” “I can’t quit my job.” I paused as I turned my skirt, finding the back of it. It was normal and healthy and that’s what I always hoped for in a sexual encounter. He’d been playful, not too rough, and though it wasn’t the kind of touch that made me immediately wet, it felt good enough. “Quit your job.” He groaned as I put my bra on, covering up the breasts he’d spent so much time fondling over the weekend. “I have a job,” I said, smacking his hand away. “Why?” He leaned forward and stroked a finger along the curve of my breast. “I have to go home.” I threw the dress shirt on the bed. “I have a flight,” I answered anyway as I unbuttoned the dress shirt that I’d snagged off the floor after my shower earlier. He sat up and leaned against the headboard, and based on his new position, I assumed he was preparing to move the conversation in a serious direction. With city traffic, I needed to leave in the next thirty minutes. In support of what she called my much-needed sexcapade, Ashley had taken care of packing my suitcase, but I still had to pick it up from the hotel doorman before heading to the airport.
“I really don’t have a problem with that.” He reached down to rub the semi that was already taking shape beneath the sheet.
0 kommentar(er)
