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Don’t Rayne On My Parade; chapter six, part four

“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.

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