Temporary Secretary

Part 34

Paul's eyes were dazed and lidded. He didn't say a word. After a minute more of taking him, tasting his mouth, he cautiously, tentatively rested his hands on your waist, body relaxing when it didn't cause you to pull away.

You pressed closer to him, kissing, your hands gripping the soft skin of his face.

His skin was so nice to the touch. You'd missed it, and the scent. The soft brush of his hair against the back of your hands.

Paul's breath was shuddery. He was so needy for the touches. You were too. You'd been wanting to touch him so badly, this entire time. You wanted to taste him, and breathe him in.

He tempted you every moment with his very presence, the way he moved, his gentle voice, soft hands, such pretty eyes. He had such a demurity to his presence somehow, even juxtaposing his personality.

It was hell not being able to have him, no matter how much you wanted to. It was impossible. Paul didn't even know he was doing it.

Just the idea you found him revolting, that he was some consolation prize... that couldn't be farther from the truth. You wanted him.

God, why not have him. He wanted you to have him. Who the hell was to say you had to deny yourself this pleasure.

Paul was more than willing. You could've been fucking him this entire time, and he'd very well enjoy it. It was all on you.

It was only causing him grief, and it was causing you grief too.

If it did go horribly wrong, if what you were doing was selfish after all, then at least you'd be proved right.

But what if it didn't go horribly wrong?

Paul couldn't wrap his mind around the mindset you had. Maybe he didn't have the ability to understand it. To him, it went without saying, to be married, and live happily after. It didn't always work out that way, true, but sometimes it did.

What if he was right? That it'd turn out just fine, and you were denying yourself, the both of you, for no reason at all? That was the only thing causing conflict. Your fear.

Of course Paul was pushed to a breaking point. Your reasoning made no sense to him. To him, it wasn't so far fetched you were coming up with nonsense excuses, maybe acting out of resentment, fucking with him purely out of spite, make him suffer for what he'd done to you, trapping you.

It was all so stupid. What if things did go bad? Paul was here now, and wanted it. You should get to have him while it was still the case, if it was doomed to fail.

When have you ever allowed yourself to enjoy the moment while it lasted? The wonderful pleasure.

Delicious.

You pressed against him, leaning into him.

Paul's hand felt you over in the way he'd missed.

But particularly, when his hand curled around your side, you felt his touch longer, his thumb grazing over your stomach. Conscious of it or not, the intent behind it was clear.

Maybe he couldn't touch it as he wanted to. Even when you allowed it, (as you felt it wrong not to, as you were the one carrying it, while he had no such luxury), such as the week before, it wasn't what he truly craved. Kept at arm's length, clinical almost, none of the intimacy that went along with such a thing. What had brought about its existence in the first place.

Maybe the thought of it in there fed into whatever it was he felt. Even without show, the thought that he'd managed to stake a claim over part of you... maybe he got off to it. Or rather, the sentimentality of it all getting muddled with lust, and vice versa.