"You have nothing at all to worry about!" He blushes all the more. But it turns into something closer to fear when he notices the heat coming from her, and worse from him. He has to give himself a talking to. Don't get a goddamn boner. Nothing's happening here it's fine, it's good, keep it together, don't weird her out.
Trouble is, the longer they go without attacking eachother's faces, the more likely it is she'll look down. So of course the solution to keeping her from noticing his growing chub is to go in for more kisses, and not to stop. Unfortunately this also worsens the situation.
If she hasn't slid the rest of the way into his lap, they're fine. If she... doesn't...
She ends up slung sideways with both arms looped behind his neck, urging Jekyll to dip slightly for the joy of it. The hardness on her left thigh is hardly a blip on her radar with his genius distraction. True brilliance. Only she hasn't thought it through given the distribution of weight, how gravity weighs them down over the cushions.
How long had they taken to make out? When did she start feeling for the zipper, button, whatever keeping his pants up? Well, not long enough for her hand to make it lower than his navel.
The lost time leaves Paloma spaced out and glazed over, chest heaving in a disgraceful pant. Her legs, spread wide, complete the picture of pretty and devauched. Croaking, "I'll... I'll get," and stumbling to open up before anyone gets suspicious.
The delivery boy is servile, silent perfection. He leaves the steaming platter and Jekyll's ice cream behind, closing the door on the room with its electrified air.
It gives him a moment to rearrange himself, to tug that sweater vest down and maybe take some attention away from his dick. He should probably just dump that ice cream down his pants.
"I hope you enjoy it...!" It's all he manages to croak out, too embarrassed to meet her eyes.
What she'd enjoy more than the fucking truffles is Jekyll touching her sweet spots. A polite guest, she keeps the wild demand to herself.
This time she's careful to sit with enough space between them for Jesus. "Mhmm," she says with a pronounced rasp. The smell of flavorful meat isn't helping to banish the bad ho thoughts. "God, I hope he doesn't think I'm a hooker!"
He's having much the same thought, jumping between "I hope she doesn't think I'm trying to treat her like a hooker" and "I hope she doesn't think I'm disgusting and pushy". Room for Jesus is good though. It helps.
He'll just take that ice cream and reprimand himself for ordering something so silly, but enjoy it nonetheless. "She's out quite late, huh..." Guess they're all alone..........
Ice cream did seem a bizarre choice. Someone who kisses like that is entitled to eccentricity.
Paloma mutely relishes her first experience with truffle in any form. The pause gets a tad lengthy, a lil awkward. She swallows. "Edward did say, umm, drinks on the house."
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Trouble is, the longer they go without attacking eachother's faces, the more likely it is she'll look down. So of course the solution to keeping her from noticing his growing chub is to go in for more kisses, and not to stop. Unfortunately this also worsens the situation.
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She ends up slung sideways with both arms looped behind his neck, urging Jekyll to dip slightly for the joy of it. The hardness on her left thigh is hardly a blip on her radar with his genius distraction. True brilliance. Only she hasn't thought it through given the distribution of weight, how gravity weighs them down over the cushions.
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Luckily a gentle knock at the door saves them, and makes him jump about ten feet in the air off of her back into his own space. Personal space.
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The lost time leaves Paloma spaced out and glazed over, chest heaving in a disgraceful pant. Her legs, spread wide, complete the picture of pretty and devauched. Croaking, "I'll... I'll get," and stumbling to open up before anyone gets suspicious.
The delivery boy is servile, silent perfection. He leaves the steaming platter and Jekyll's ice cream behind, closing the door on the room with its electrified air.
no subject
"I hope you enjoy it...!" It's all he manages to croak out, too embarrassed to meet her eyes.
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This time she's careful to sit with enough space between them for Jesus. "Mhmm," she says with a pronounced rasp. The smell of flavorful meat isn't helping to banish the bad ho thoughts. "God, I hope he doesn't think I'm a hooker!"
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He'll just take that ice cream and reprimand himself for ordering something so silly, but enjoy it nonetheless. "She's out quite late, huh..." Guess they're all alone..........
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Paloma mutely relishes her first experience with truffle in any form. The pause gets a tad lengthy, a lil awkward. She swallows. "Edward did say, umm, drinks on the house."
Oh, God, what if they're banging.
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"I, um, I do have patients tomorrow..." Maybe he should go. Not that he wants to, but it would be wise, wouldn't it?
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Positive her nipples are going to poke out of her top and spear the filet mignon, stabbing another incredible portion, she nods grimly. "I have..."
Well. "I have dinner..."
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After a long debate, he kisses her cheek before making his escape.
Maybe Hyde will be home haha!!