Muffin Top

“You don’t want to?” he asked, drawing back.

“It’s not that, it’s…” She couldn’t find the words, not when he was looking down at her as if she was the only woman in the world, the only one he really wanted. She almost believed him.

“You’re trying to save me from myself?” He pressed against her, his hard length fitting against her so perfectly. “Lucy, I’m already lost, but I feel found any time I’m with you.”

They were just words, pretty words, but she wanted to believe. That should scare her, but just as the reality started to scrape against the edges of her consciousness, one hand glided down to her hip and he ground his hard length against her.

“But don’t worry, this is just a kiss between friends, right?”

If she’d had words in her head at that moment, she would have answered the desperate need in his tone. Instead, she gave into it and swiveled her hips against him in a desperate search for relief from the throbbing need between her legs. This wasn’t right. He was on the sexual bench, and she was trying to escalate a scorching kiss to something that would leave them both naked and happy. However, it wasn’t to be, because she wasn’t going to take advantage of him like that.

Laying her head back against the love seat’s arm rest, she kept her eyes shut tight as she tried to regain her breath.

“That was…” She tried to come up with something, but her brain needed a total reboot at this point.

“Yeah,” he answered.

Breathing hard, mental facilities on emergency power, and so turned on she worried about spontaneous combustion, she cracked her eyelids open and halfheartedly prayed for the strength to slide out from underneath him. Seeing his face from this position, close enough that she could drown in the want she saw in his blue eyes, sent a shiver of anticipation through her. Averting her gaze in an effort not to raise her head the few inches needed to start the kiss up again, she looked down the length of their bodies.

Most of his body weight was supported by how he was propped up on his left forearm as he lay on the couch, keeping him above her and not on her. His right hand rested against the rise of her hip—and whoa. His hands were big, and strong, and she just wanted to experience all the fabulous things he could do with them. She bit down on her bottom lip, needing the pain to surface to keep from giving in to the amazing feeling of having his hands on her body.

“Frankie,” she said, too turned on to know what to say after that beyond the fact that she needed to say something to put a stop to this.

He brushed his thumb over her hip, following the paisley print on her skirt, as he looked down at her face from his position above her. “Whatever you’re thinking, don’t.”

“We shouldn’t.” It wasn’t fair to him. It wasn’t right. He deserved better than that. Better than a convenient fuck.

“You say that a lot for a woman who kisses me like she wants me.”

Wants him? It seemed like such pedestrian words for how she was feeling right now—needy to the point of being desperate for the brush of his lips or the stroke of his touch.

“I do,” she said, her voice breathy. Was it wrong to use him to relieve her aching need if he was using her, too? Yes, it was, the rational part of her brain inserted. “But I don’t want to push you into doing something you don’t really want to do.”

“You don’t think I want to touch you?” He emphasized just how much he seemed to want to by lowering his hips forward so his hard cock rubbed against her core, tugging her skirt higher. “Or kiss you?” His mouth was on the column of her neck as he kissed and nipped his way up to her ear. “Or make you come repeatedly until your whole body is wrung out?” He followed that not by rocking against her, but by going completely still. “You can imagine that, can’t you? Clenching around me as the whole world breaks apart over and over and over again?”

She nodded because her ability to form words had disappeared. Again. This was all too much and not enough, and bad decisions were about to be made—the absolute best kind of bad decisions.

“Good, because I know I’ve imagined it. I’ve wanted it. I still do.” His fingers glided down from her hip to the hem of her skirt, an intense, hungry look on his face. “So I’m asking you to let me come off the bench with you.”

She cupped his face and turned his head so he had to look right at her. There could be no mistakes in this. “Are you sure?”

“My idea to stop having sex until I got my head straight was about as stupid as that bullshit definition of sex that I used earlier to get a rise out of you.”