Foreman was sprawled mostly sideways on the bed; his head had barely managed to make it on to a pillow, and his left leg hadn't made it on to the bed at all. He pushed at the floor with one foot, trying to wriggle back at least far enough that his ass wasn't falling off the edge of the mattress. Amber had his shirt gaping open, the soft, deliberate movement of her fingers over his chest and down his stomach making his abs clench and shiver, but his tie was still pushed up beside his head. Her impatience, and the light rock of her hips against his stomach, was enticing, but Foreman couldn't keep his ears from straining for the sound of footsteps on the stairs, or any sign that the conversation in the living room was audible from the bedroom, which could only mean that they'd be heard in return, even if they never raised their voices.
Amber's slow, lingering kiss seemed perfectly designed to strip his inhibitions away as methodically as she was stripping off his clothes. Foreman closed his eyes and kissed her back. The way she sucked at his lip and tugged as she pulled back was sexy as hell, and that one act tore another prop out from under his self-control. When he didn't have this much to lose by giving in, it always turned him on that Amber had learned him well enough to try to manipulate him by giving him what he wanted. "You need to prove something by acting like we're not in your parents' house," he said. It was true, and he damn well hoped she knew he wasn't fooled. But it was also a rebellious mutter, one she could ignore if she chose. He'd missed her, he was horny, he'd been drinking, and she wasn't taking no for an answer. So simple to give in and touch her. She'd probably do anything he wanted, if it meant getting her way in the end--like suck him until he couldn't remember, let alone care, about the cold-shower reality that her parents could walk in on them at any moment. Foreman lifted his head off the pillow and kissed Amber again, half-wishing it was enough to placate her. It was deep, gentle, needy, and if that was all she wanted he'd be happy to kiss her all night.
It wasn't going to be all she wanted. "I really shouldn't be thinking about who's been on this bed," he said, another half-hearted attempt to douse the proceedings in a little reality. If Amber had really lived here all her life, then there were probably at least a few spotty, idiot teenage boys who'd been laid out like he was now. Well, at least Foreman had the self-assurance to know what the hell he was doing, and not come in his pants. He sighed and let go of Amber's hands, holding her hips instead. The hook-and-eye catch of her skirt was under his left hand, and he opened it, quickly drawing down her zipper a second later. With her skirt loose on her hips, he slipped his fingers under her blouse. Palm spread, fingers following the warm curve of Amber's stomach, he dipped his thumbs under the waistband of her panties, and stroked enticing lines up towards her breasts with his fingertips.
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Amber's slow, lingering kiss seemed perfectly designed to strip his inhibitions away as methodically as she was stripping off his clothes. Foreman closed his eyes and kissed her back. The way she sucked at his lip and tugged as she pulled back was sexy as hell, and that one act tore another prop out from under his self-control. When he didn't have this much to lose by giving in, it always turned him on that Amber had learned him well enough to try to manipulate him by giving him what he wanted. "You need to prove something by acting like we're not in your parents' house," he said. It was true, and he damn well hoped she knew he wasn't fooled. But it was also a rebellious mutter, one she could ignore if she chose. He'd missed her, he was horny, he'd been drinking, and she wasn't taking no for an answer. So simple to give in and touch her. She'd probably do anything he wanted, if it meant getting her way in the end--like suck him until he couldn't remember, let alone care, about the cold-shower reality that her parents could walk in on them at any moment. Foreman lifted his head off the pillow and kissed Amber again, half-wishing it was enough to placate her. It was deep, gentle, needy, and if that was all she wanted he'd be happy to kiss her all night.
It wasn't going to be all she wanted. "I really shouldn't be thinking about who's been on this bed," he said, another half-hearted attempt to douse the proceedings in a little reality. If Amber had really lived here all her life, then there were probably at least a few spotty, idiot teenage boys who'd been laid out like he was now. Well, at least Foreman had the self-assurance to know what the hell he was doing, and not come in his pants. He sighed and let go of Amber's hands, holding her hips instead. The hook-and-eye catch of her skirt was under his left hand, and he opened it, quickly drawing down her zipper a second later. With her skirt loose on her hips, he slipped his fingers under her blouse. Palm spread, fingers following the warm curve of Amber's stomach, he dipped his thumbs under the waistband of her panties, and stroked enticing lines up towards her breasts with his fingertips.