I’m aware that my pajamas aren’t the most modest, but I wasn’t planning on anyone seeing them. I thought Harrison wouldn’t get home from his shift until seven.
Now, I’m all too aware of my breasts pressing tightly against the thin, white fabric.
I try to think of something to say, some way to start a conversation with this man who seems so unattainable.
But then, I realize that he’s been watching me sleep. He’s hard, and he hasn’t moved since I woke up approximately thirty seconds ago.
Knowing that he just looked at me and it turned him on feels like some type of flattery, and I smile, a flicker of exuberance flashing through my eyes.
That seems to be all that Harrison needs to move forward.
In three steps, he crossed the living room carpet and reached the couch.
Now, I can smell him as well and see him. He smells like a mix between antibacterial hand wash and that fresh, woodsy smell he always has. I breathe in deeply as Harrison leans even closer.
His lips brush my ear and send a tingle down my body.
“If you want me to stop, tell me.”
He freezes right there, like he’s expecting me to tell him off right then and there.
But I don’t.
I don’t say anything. I want him to touch me. I want him inside me.
The only way to respond to his invitation is one of my own, so I reach under the blanket and slide off my pajama shorts, pink fabric with little bottles of wine on it.
Then, I throw the blanket aside and show him my black, silky underwear.
Harrison groans and reaches for me.
“I’m not stopping you,” I tell him.
Harrison’s hands glide down my thighs, and I feel my excitement rising as his hands get closer and closer to my vulva. But then, just as he reaches the edge of my panties, his hands glide away again.
Before I have a chance to protest, Harrison’s mouth is on mine. He’s bending over me close, so close, and his kiss is everything I’ve imagined it would be.
His lips hungrily envelop mine, his tongue reaching in and finding mine only a moment later, sending a shiver of desire through me. No longer can I be passive in this.
I have to touch him.
I want to feel him.
He’s wearing too much clothing, and I want it off. I want it all off.
I reach for the waistband of his pants and tug them downward, not having much success as our lips remain connected.
But Harrison suddenly breaks away, pulling his mouth from mine.
A slice of fear cuts through me. Has he decided against this? Is he going to leave me alone and wanting on the couch?
But then, he reaches for his own pants. His hands play with the waistband, and I feel my vagina tingling as I lift my chin, trying to force him to remove them more quickly.
But Harrison just moves his hands back and forth near the top of his waistband. It isn’t until I look up and meet his eyes that I realize he’s teasing me.
As soon as I meet his eyes, his pants start moving downward, and I’m drawn back to his waist.
Once his pants reach his knees, I can’t see anything else other than his tight, gray boxers which cling closely to him.
