Sarah has a devastatingly attractive combination of brains, beauty, and genuine compassion that renders her irresistible. Her effect on me is visceral. I want to kiss her, and more, but she’s going to make me wait while she ponders on it.

I haven’t seen a girl flush such a luscious shade of pink since middle school.

“I think…” she says, holding her wine glass close, not reaching for my outstretched hand. “I think that might be okay.”

Finally.

I move closer and take the wine glass from her hand, placing it on the coffee table beside us. When I’m so close our knees touch, I raise my hand to her chin, letting my fingers brush her pale, creamy soft skin. She leans into my hand, smiling demurely, closing her eyes. When our lips touch it’s better than I remember from last night. Softer, sweeter, warmer, and no hesitation. She surrenders, letting me part her lips, her tongue meeting mine, hot and gently curious.

She tastes like strawberries and red wine; her essence sweeps into my senses, spinning me like I’m intoxicated. I breathe her in deeper, filling my head with more of her with every breath. I haven’t been this close to a woman in a long time, and not this close to one I genuinely cared for in more than two years. Her heat and probing kisses have an immediate effect on me, making me hard before we’ve even really gotten going.

I hate that I’ve lied to her, concocting a ridiculous story about who I am. I regret revealing so much about my childhood, because now that feels like I’ve played on her sympathies. That’s not what I intended. But right here, in this moment, swept up in Sarah’s kisses, I can’t regret much because this is bliss.

My hand rounds the curve of her hip, then traces lower, palming her firm thigh, feeling the graceful turn of toned muscle. Her hands touch my chest then move up, exploring my shoulders, the back of my neck, threading my hair in her fingertips, pulling me in closer to her. She lets out a little sigh, taking a breath, then urges me down on top of her on the couch.

Instinctively, as we melt into one another without slowing our heated, urgent kisses, my knee slips between hers, spreading her legs. It’s not something I intended to do, it’s just built-in muscle memory when I’m this turned on and wound up.

Sarah pulls back from me, breaking our kiss. Her breath is hot on my face. We’re so close I can barely focus.

“We’re not going to have sex,” she says, her tone as serious as it’s been all night. “I need you to know that. Understand?”

“I understand,” I say. “Just say when.”

This is why I have lawyers, and non-disclosure agreements, and contracts with terms and conditions. My head is in bed with her already, and my cock is as hard as a railroad spike. I could be falling for a con as elaborate as Ocean’s 11 and not even know it, but I don’t think so.

Sarah kisses me deeply, spreading her blue jean clad legs wide, her hands falling to my hips, pressing me into her in a perfect, fully clothed simulation of sex. My hips rock into hers. My body screams for her flesh, but the best I’ve got is my hand slipping under her t-shirt to fondle a pert nipple that stiffens with my touch, causing Sarah to moan in our embrace.

She likes that. Let’s go with that for now.

I pull back, lifting in a push-up over her so I can see her clearly.

“Sit on my lap?” I ask. “I want to kiss your tits and admire your beautiful body.”

She laughs, a lovely, giggling tinkle of a laugh that makes my cock ache for her that much worse. I roll back, sitting, pulling her straddling me onto my lap, sliding my hands under her soft-cotton t-shirt, lifting it over her head and off to reveal the most luxurious pair of pale, ample breasts that have ever begged my attention.

She came to the party braless.

My hands and mouth can’t resist her. I suck and bite gently, rounding first one nipple, then another, until they’re hard against my teeth and Sarah’s moaning in my arms, her back arched, her head back, her Levi’s clad ass-cheeks round in my palms. I pull her closer to me until she can’t help but feel the hard bulge, crushing against my jeans.

Her belly is firm, but soft. Her skin is creamy and salty. I devour her with my mouth and tongue, kissing her from nape to navel, dreaming of being inside her. My hand naturally falls between her thighs, fingers stroking over hated fabric, places I know are soft and wet, ready for me.

Sarah moans, crying, her fingers gripping my shoulders tight with this attention, her hips rocking into mine with every bit as much heat as my own.

We need to do this.

I deftly pop the button at the front of her jeans and glide the zipper down. A second later my hand slips inside, sliding over thin cotton panties soaked with her arousal. I slide deeper, reaching in, feeling the firm button of her clit, peeking between moistened lips. I roll it gently between my fingers, watching Sarah’s face. Her eyes are seared closed. Her berry sweet, pouty lips part. Her breathing is shallow and fast.

I could probably make her cum like this.

And then just that fast her hand drops to my wrist, pushing me away. Sarah pulls herself back as she breathlessly covers herself, shaking her head, looking distressed.

“You need to go now before we go any further,” she says, pulling all the way away from me, withdrawing to the end of the couch. “We can’t do this.”

I’m hard as a rock, dizzy, ready to go, and she’s slammed on the breaks.

I take a moment to catch my breath.

“Did I do something wrong?” I finally ask after gathering my wits. “I’m sorry. I thought you were enjoying it too. I didn’t mean to—”

“No, no,” Sarah interrupts. “I was. I am. It’s just… I want to. I really want to. With you. And we will.”

We will? When?

“But I need to get some things arranged first.”

Oh. Yeah. That. My brain ceded temporary control of rational thought to my dick. And that’s why I have lawyers.

I lean back on the couch, collecting my thoughts.

“Don’t be mad, please,” Sarah implores, her voice almost trembling.

That shakes me out of my stupor. I reach for her, pulling her into an embrace, pressing her into my chest.

“I’m not mad,” I assure her. She’s being responsible. Measured. Steady. It makes me want her even more. There will be more pleasure for both of us when it finally happens.

She smells so nice, like some exotic, light perfume and tangerines on a beach. God, I want her. I want her to cum, screaming my name. I want to make her tremble and quake, making the Earth move beneath her.

“You know,” I whisper, stroking her back. “There’s a lot of things we can do that don’t involve any risk. I would love to taste you, and I swear, you’ll enjoy it as much as I will.”

Sarah pulls away so she can see me. She regards me with curiosity.

“You’re willing to settle for that?”

I grin. “It’s my second favorite thing in the world,” I tell her. “It’s not settling. It’s preamble. I want to make you cum.”

I kiss her gain, deep and hard, bringing her close into me so she knows that I mean it.