He's fighting for his future. She's fighting with his past, his mother, the girl who wants him for her own.
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"Baby," he groaned, "you have no idea what you're doing to me. But if you want me to stop, tell me and I will. I'll do whatever you want ... but I'm not going to fuck you ... not here ... not now. You mean more to me than a quickie in my car."
"I don't want you to stop yet ... just a little more ..."
His fingers slipped beneath the beaded neckline, inched to my shoulder, tugging my dress down to my elbow. The spandex bodice sprang from my body, snapping like a rubber band, settling into place where it clung to my ribs, baring an entire breast. An instant rush of cool air, blending with his urgent breath, swept my skin. Goose bumps covered my nakedness.
My fingers threaded through his hair, pulling, tangling. I rocked my hips, sucked on his neck until I almost drew blood, moaning his name, whispering, "Please ..."
He took my breast in his mouth, sucking gently, his tongue circling my throbbing nipple. Feeling the thrill of his lips deep in my belly, I drew his face closer, silently begging for more.
A fierce moan escaped my lips. A voice that could not have been my own whispered, "I thought you weren't going to touch my nipples ... make me suffer." My breath came so fast I could barely speak.
He lifted his face, his hand replacing his mouth. "You drive me crazy ... whether I'm with you ... or without you. I can't stop thinking about you. And that could be dangerous."
"You make me want more than sex ... and I ..."
"Ssh. Just keep kissing me." I moaned into his mouth.