Tristen Pov
I lie on my bed, gazing at the chandelier directly above me, examining its downward-pointing crystal spikes that seem to threaten to drop and pierce my skin. A sense of agitation washes over me, though I'm not entirely certain of its cause.
"Could you please stop looking so glum?" Georgia implores, approaching my bed in nothing but my oversized blue shirt.
Typically, this would ignite my desire, especially with no one else home since my parents are out for dinner. So why not take advantage of the moment? She’s completely bare except for the shirt that barely covers her backside, swaying her hips enticingly as she moves closer. We've been intimate countless times before, so what’s holding me back today?
It may sound a bit sad, but I realize my irritation stems from worry. Wo
