Too Good?

'Just until you drift off,' I lied to myself as much as her. She smiled faintly, scooting closer under the covers, her body curling toward mine. The warmth seeped through the thin sheet, her leg brushing my thigh, and then—fuck—her bulge pressed against my hip, hard and unyielding even in her tipsy state. It was unmistakable, the thick ridge tenting the fabric, sending a jolt straight to my groin.

My cock strained, aching to grind back, to feel her length slide against mine in that taboo friction. Emotions crashed over me: guilt for wanting this, protectiveness for her vulnerability, and a deep, hungry attraction that made my breath hitch.

She snuggled in tighter, her head nestling against my arm, soft exhales warming my skin.

'You're too good, you know that?' she whispered, her hand finding my chest, fingers splaying over my heartbeat. The touch was innocent on the surface, but the way her bulge throbbed subtly against me screamed otherwise—teasing, inviting, a forbidden promise in the quiet room.

I swallowed hard, my free hand clenching the bedsheet to keep from exploring, from cupping that hardness and stroking until she moaned my name. The air thickened with unspoken desire, her emotional need weaving into the physical pull, leaving me torn and throbbing.