Josh pushes me down on the bed, me only in my bra and underwear, him in his boxers, which I have noticed have begun to form a tent around his groin.
His lips attack mine once more, his tongue fighting with mine.
His hand moves up to my breast, gently starting to massage the flesh. I moan at the contact.
He breaks away from our kiss and moves his other hand to my other breast, massaging both eagerly.
I gasp as his big hands envelope my breasts, encouraging him further.
He starts squeezing harder, and harder, and harder.
“Ow! Damn, Josh, be careful! That hurts!”
“How in the hell can this be painful?” he asks, squeezing roughly once more.
I push his hands off of my chest and sit back up on the headboard, crossing my arms over my chest. “It just does, okay?”
“You are such a mood killer, Aubrie,” he mumbles.
“Well, maybe it’s because you aren’t Tyler Nixon!”
He scoffs and climbs under the covers, his back facing mine.
“You know, sometimes I think I have to be a porn star just to satisfy you.”
I shrug even though he can’t see me.
“Wouldn’t hurt if you were.”