The Twin Switch

Then Max pulled off his jacket and ripped his way out of his dress shirt. And everything around me disappeared. He was hot with a capital H.

Before I could look my fill, he pushed down the strap of my dress. He kissed his way across my bared shoulder. Every brush of his lips sent new tingles deep into my skin.

I breathed deeply—such a fresh crisp scent. My fingertips traced their way from his abs, to his pecs, up the breadth of his shoulders that went on and on. My lips followed suit, and I felt his warm breath on my hair.

I knew I should stop. My left brain told me I couldn’t careen off on a wave of feeling. I had things to do. I had Brooklyn to find.

Finally, my right brain told me. Finally, after so very many disappointments today, an indulgence was mine for the taking.

The debate was very short.

Indulgence won with a capital I.

I didn’t want to make Max guess, so I stripped off the little dress. I stood there in my panties, making myself perfectly clear.

I was in his arms in a flash, his embrace warm and engulfing. My breasts pressed against his bare chest, sending my arousal to new heights.

Then he lifted me like I weighed nothing. He started walking.

“Bedroom,” he said.

My right brain cheered. It was probably the sexiest thing that had ever happened to me.

He carried me through a door to a second big room. Light filtered through an opaque blind, and I could make out a king-size bed, a padded headboard and a huge mound of pillows.

We collapsed together onto the soft bed, Max on top, propping himself with his elbows.

The quilt was smooth silk against my body. It was cool. A fan stirred the air overhead.

His hands clasped mine, and he moved in slow motion to kiss my lips.

I simultaneously moaned and sighed, melting against his mouth, then his thighs, then his chest as we pressed closer and tighter together.

His weight felt good. It felt sexy. It pushed me deep into the soft mattress.

His kisses were long and thorough, expertly sending messages to my breasts and inner thighs, making them tighten and buzz with desire.

His lips were magic. His hands did nothing but caress my palms, yet I was writhing and stretching and lifting my hips.

My panties were thin. So were his boxers. My thighs spread apart, and our touch through the whisper of fabric was a prelude to lovemaking.