“Ok, baby,” I say, touching his cheek. “I’ll do my best.” Paris leans forward and touches my lips with his. He presses his body against mine, and I can feel his hard cock digging insistently into my thigh. It would be so easy to have sex with Paris, and it would feel so good. That’s precisely why I gently push him away.
“Come on, Rayne,” he mumbles into my hair, not letting me go. “You know you want to. It would comfort me a great deal.” He slips a hand down my back and rests it just above my ass. It has been a long time since I’ve had sex, and I can feel my body responding. Paris is the best lover I’ve had, beyond compare. I bury my face into his shoulder as Paris starts to slowly massage my back. It takes the last ounce of strength I have to push him away, not as gently this time.
“Paris, you know you’ll regret this in the morning.” I quickly stand up to put some distance between us. Paris stands up, too, and gives me the puppy-dog eyes. I feel my resolve begin to crumble as he starts stroking my arm. Because he’s Paris, he knows that a slow, sensual stroking of my arm is the quickest way to arouse me. “I think, oh God, I am going to my room. You are not following.” Before he can stop me, I race into my room and shut the door. I feel guilty for turning him down, but this is not the way I want him. I don’t want the manifestation of his grief to be the driving force of him falling into my bed.