The second time, we had s*x.
This time, we make love, and that makes it so much better and so much worse.
And far, far more dangerous.
He lowers me to the bed, lowers himself on top of me, and kisses me deeply, his tongue searching my mouth and his hands dug into my hair. I’ve got my arms around his broad shoulders. My legs are bent on either side of his waist. I’m clutching the little brown bag like my life depends on it.
He rears up to his knees and whips off his shirt. I lie on the bed staring up at him, feeling electrified.
“Say it again.” His voice is thick with desire.
I whisper, “Please make love to me.”
“Put your arms over your head.”
I comply instantly. He pulls off my jeans and panties, then pushes my T-shirt up over my breasts to my armpits so it’s crumpled up under my c
