I only mean to give her one little kiss—a peck, but when I lean in and kiss her forehead, she sighs into me, and the next thing you know, she’s lifting her face to mine and we’re kissing full on the lips, entwined together like hormonal teenagers, without the awkwardness. I trace my fingers along the back of her neck and gently pull her closer to me, making her squirm and moan with the friction of our bodies together. It doesn’t take much effort at all to yank up the t-shirt and smooth my hand over the soft skin at her lower back, pulling her into me so we can deepen the kiss.
A dim part of my brain tells me to stop, that I was supposed to avoid this, but I can’t stop. I’m like an addict who gets one hit, one taste, one sip, and needs more. I’ve opened the floodgates and there’s no turning back now.
I lay her down on the floor and cage her in with my body over hers, sliding my hips against her thigh, rocking the friction that builds between us. She moans and grinds against me. I need to stop this. I need to end this before we really begin, but I don’t want to. I’ve only just tasted her, and I want to devour her.
I capture her wrists and hold them by her sides while I kiss her and explore, the taste of her mouth and fullness of her lips, the way her hot pussy feels against my cock. Even fully clothed, the feel of her is electric. I’m kissing her harder, deeper, and lifting the t-shirt to cup her breasts. My fingers find her nipples, and I brush my thumbs over them, which makes her catch her breath and push harder against my leg. The wafting scent of her arousal clouds my vision with thoughts of fucking her, when my phone rings in the other room. It’s like an alarm. A warning.
I pull away, but it’s almost painful.
I stare at her in confusion and wonder. My willpower, which is practically Herculean, has been crushed by this woman.
What the hell just happened?