Dr. Feelgood

He kissed her forehead softly.

"Thanks..." Her reddened wet lashes flickered. He brushed a loose strand from her face, staring into her eyes, sliding his hand down her cheek and stopping to cup her chin, tilting it upwards.

"Let me...get my clothes back on. I'll walk you down."

He needed to free himself from her, better idea would have been to just climb into that shower and let the cold sprays wash over him and then he'd whack off, draining his tool of every need it harnessed for her. He didn't want to be a gentleman, he wanted to lick every inch of her, fuck her pain away for her, and dare an effigy of Joel to exist thereafter.

Peyton reached her arm up his chest and pulled his neck down. His face hung close to hers. She pressed her lips to his. Confused, she wanted to feel him. She needed to feel his thick cock hard and pounding inside of her. Always praising his skills he so arrogantly would toss out to her on every given chance, but not tonight. He was tempting to the taste and touch. He allowed her the kiss. He had wanted this too, for so long. But not like this. Not tonight. She'd been all things Joel and all of sudden he was suppose to take her, plough her pussy, knowing all too well that by morning when the alcohol faded, she'd regret it and hate him.

"Hmm..." He broke his lips from the sweet torture of her tongue. She didn't want to, feeling her pussy cream under his hold. His lips were as soft and luscious as they looked. Feeling his tongue coursing in and out of her mouth she imagined him lapping her folds, and blowing her to bliss.

But he cut it off.

"Why did you do that?" She stirred, confused at the rejection, rubbing her palm over her flaming cheeks.

"I want you." Jonathan grabbed her rethinking letting her go, kissing her face, and thinking too much of the consequences if he let go and took her. He pressed his forehead to hers and she locked her lips to his once more, allowing the passion swirling in her center to seek out its release. She reached for the ties of his robe. Jonathan let her, as the white thick velvety fabric opened exposing his nakedness, as his hands cupped the soft tight lumps of her ass. Pressing her body into the steel rod, she wanted him, to feel it inside of her. Their mouths hungrily devoured each other's.

"Wait..." he caught a moment of clarity. "We can't do this. Damn. Fuck. I want you so bad."

"Then take me, I want to. Let's do this. No more talking." Her hand stroked the length of his tool. It was as big as he said, and the soft feel of satin over steel made her pussy weep with want. There was no way she was leaving here without feeling it plunge in and out of her.

"No...no." He pulled her hands away. He wanted her so bad, but not this way. She still had the effects of the alcohol playing heavily on her actions and he wanted the time to be a remembrance, not of regret. "Maybe you should have a cold drink." He grabbed his robe closing it, and pulling the ties tightly to together.

"I don't want a drink. I want you. I need to forget. I need you. Are you telling me you don't want this?"

"We can't do this Peyton."

"You're no fun. I knew you were all talk. Mr. Jonathan, Saint Jock." She tugged at his belt again. He waved her off and walked to the other side of the room and threw himself on the other twin bed, pretending to be distracted by the TV.

"In case you haven't noticed Jonathan Charles, I'm throwing myself at you." She whelped.

"I'm not in the mood. I need to get dressed. I'll walk you down to the office."

"Liar! You want this. I felt you, and I know you want me!" She yelled. Passing over the mirror on the wall she found her reflection and suddenly was repulsed by the sounds she'd had just heard flying out from her lips. "Oh god! I'm so sorry." She cried.

Jonathan returned in gym shorts and socks, pulling a t-shirt over his neck.

"Look...I want to have sex with you. But not like this, ok. I want you. I do want you." He touched her arm, opening the door as he grabbed his room key off the desk and ushered her out of the door. He couldn't believe he had turned down the pussy he'd been sprung for, for what seemed like all of his life, but just a few years had passed since he'd first met her. He knew the moment he carried her up to his room, one way or another it'd be a walk through hell.