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Chapter Seven
He slept on the couch.
He refused to give in.
I begged him to come and sleep in my bed with me, but all the ploys that I tried only amused him.
I put on sexy lingerie and purposely walked from my bedroom to the kitchen, bending over slowly to get something out of the fridge. We made out more; I pulled off my top and practically thrust my chest in his face, which he seemed to like a lot. And I even flat out asked him to fuck me.
Luke must be wearing a chastity belt and is unwilling to break his vow of sainthood or something along those lines.
I’m lying in bed, when a knock sounds on my door. Luke opens the door and sticks his head in.
“You up?” he asks, his body filling my doorway as he opens it even more.
“Slowly, but yes,” I tell him.
He’s stands beside my bed and motions to the space. I scoot over to make room for him and open the blanket for him to slide in. He slides his arms underneath me and pulls me to his chest. I lay my head on his chest and breathe him in.
“I’m generally an early riser. I’ve been up for a few hours,” he explains.
“Shit, I’m a lousy host, what have you been doing?” I look up at him.
“I went for a run, showered and then snooped around your house,” he recounts.
“I’m sorry, I should have at least been up to make sure you had fresh squeezed orange juice or something for when you came back,”
“What?” he asks with a laugh.
“Isn’t that something that one should drink after a run? I don’t know running. The most that I do is when I wait last minute to pee, and I’m running to the bathroom,” I explain.
My head shakes from his silent laughter.
My hand travels down his stomach, and his laughter stops. I look up to discern his reaction to where my hand was going. His breathing becomes ragged and his eyes are alight with fire. His lips part as my fingers breach the waistband of his sweats.
He does nothing to stop me, so my ministrations continue south until I feet the coarse hairs that surround his erect cock. He takes in a deep breath as I brush my fingers along the length of him.
I peer up at him through my eyelashes, and he licks his lips then brushes back the hair that has fallen in my face.
“I’m trying really hard here to not defile you,” he says with a shaky breath.
“Why? What’s holding you back?”
“The fact that I want more than sex with you. I don’t want to make this about sex, despite the fact that all I can think about is what you taste like.”
“Well right now, I can’t say that I would likely taste too good. I haven’t brushed my teeth.” My fingers continue to drag up and down his cock.
“Not your mouth. I wasn’t talking about what you mouth tastes like. While I very much like that you generally taste like - cotton candy and mint - I’m talking about your pussy.”
“Shit,” I say.
“Yeah, shit. And I can’t really think with your hand on my dick right now,” he breathes out as my hand traces the veins on his shaft.
“So, what you’re telling me is that I should continue doing this?” I squeeze him.
He arches his back a little more and groans when my hand begins to pump him languidly.
“I don’t know what I’m saying right now,” he admits.
