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Love, or Lust?
Her lips, bright red, like a cherry,parted slightly as he leaned in to kiss her again, and for a moment, she thought she might convince him to stay. His hands clutched her bare white skin desperately, his eyes full of a wild love that would vanish as soon as he left; got into his luxurious Italian sports car, drove home to his sprawling glass mansion overlooking Hollywood, and folded his wife in his arms. Yes, his wife.
Yasmin had never thought, in all her years that one man could make her feel so dirty, and so beautifully loved at the same time, but there she was, clad in a thin silk robe, half open with alabaster breasts inviting him to stay; stay with her.
She crossed her legs, the silk riding up her thighs as she bit her candy lips in the way she knew drove him crazy.
Henry raised his eyebrow, and paused in his departure, sinking down on the couch beside her, leaning in to kiss her neck.
Yasmin stroke the side of his face, wrapping her arms lightly around the back of his neck, not too tight. Men were like animals, they didn't like to feel caged, or backed into a wall (even if a sexy blond twenty year old was practically giving him all she had to give).
Then his lips were on his again, and she planned it so coy, twisting so that she was facing him, her leg spreading ever so slightly; still innocent looking. She could feel him start to lay her back on the couch, and she knew a few more seconds of this and he'd be hers.
She knew she could convince him to leave his skank fake blond wife. She didn't feel guilty that she'd be taking him away from his only son. After all the kid didn't belong to her, and if Henry really wanted a child...well, they had had a lot of practice in making a baby together.
But Henry unexpectedly cooled beneath her groping fingers. He pulled away from her, and zipped his pants back up, rubbing his crotch where one of her acrylic nails had caught him in the wrong way.
"I'm sorry, Babe, I've got to go."
"Don't, please, leave her."
Henry sighed, "You know I can't do that."
"But I love you."
Henry smiled bitterly, "You wouldn't know love if I stuffed a million dollars in that thong of yours." With that, he left her, her chest rising and falling angrily,her nostrils flaring like a feral bull, as she sprung up from the couch, her butt cheeks, sticking to the leather.
Above her fireplace was her father's old shotgun. In his car, Henry prepared to leave. And when they asked her why she did it, their eyes glued to her half naked appearance, she put on her best fake innocent smile, and claimed self-defence.