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"What are you saying?" Jolie asked, tears evident in her voice. I sighed. "I can't change the past, but I can try to make things right for the future. Better.
The Culligan Man was nowhere in sight, thankfully. One run-in had been enough. The morning was just a constant repetition of trying to be a better salesperson than Chris. He'd even wagered he could get more completed than me, so it made the hours go by a little faster. A little friendly competition was good for the soul, he said.
Over an hour later, I was still rocking back-and-forth when Chris pulled into the lot. I'd been half-wishing I had a cigarette because something I'd read recently said smoking helped you relax.
My tears had dried up by then, but they threatened to return at just the sight of my boyfriend. And as much as I wanted to run to him, I couldn't move from my spot. Primarily because my butt was numb and my feet were tingly.
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I just sighed, unable to resist the wave of pleasure drifting over me. After a long moment of nuzzling and licking on his end which had us both moaning, he rested his chin in the valley between my breasts and sighed as well. "I dated a girl who worked in a tattoo parlor. Her group of friends embraced the punk rock style.
"What's wrong?" "Shh. " He brought my left hand above my head and held it there with his, kissing me harder, my head pressing into the pillow now. "Chris!" I wiggled under him, my right palm futilely pushing between us on his chest. In the distance, I heard the front door shut loudly.
"Chris!" I wiggled under him, my right palm futilely pushing between us on his chest. In the distance, I heard the front door shut loudly. "What-" "Getting mad won't change anything, honey. " He dipped his head, and his tongue ran around my nipple before he gently tugged on it with his teeth.
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I stood there buck naked in my kitchen and screamed my head off with my hands fisted at my sides, my feet stomping. At some point, I realized Chris was standing by the island with me, also without a stitch of clothing on. He didn't say anything. He didn't try to calm me. He was just there.
There was a jerk on my hair again. "Open your eyes, Holly. " I'd no sooner obeyed when he picked up the rhythm. He released his grip on my hair and both hands moved to hold my right hip, to pull himself into me.
When I tried to twist away, he returned to my breasts. Over and over again, we played that game. And the longer it went on, the wetter I became. "Does this guy," Chris asked, his voice husky as he ran a single finger up and down the soft hollow of skin just behind my ear along the back of my jaw, "know right where to touch you to drive you wild?" I wanted him to both continue and yet stop touching me there.
He knew I couldn't last long with that kind of torture.