Please stop (1)

"Clara," he slurred, his voice thick with emotion. "What happened with you and Aiden? Why did you move out? And why… why didn't you tell me?"

Clara stiffened, caught off guard by his questions. She gently but firmly pushed him back, creating some space between them. "Dylan, you're drunk. This isn't the time to talk about this."

But Dylan didn't seem to hear her. His glassy eyes searched hers, his expression a mix of confusion and longing. "I miss you, Clara. I've always missed you. I just… I didn't know how to say it before. But now… I can't stop thinking about you."

Before she could respond, he leaned in closer once more. The sudden proximity made Clara's heart race. She opened her mouth to protest, but Dylan cupped her face in his hands, his touch surprisingly gentle despite his drunken state. His eyes locked onto hers, filled with a raw intensity that took her breath away.

And then he kissed her.

The kiss was soft at first, tentative, as if he were afraid she might pull away. But when she didn't immediately resist, it deepened, his arms wrapping around her waist to pull her closer. Clara's hands instinctively gripped his shoulders, her heart pounding in her chest. For a brief, fleeting moment, she allowed herself to get lost in the familiarity of his touch, the warmth of his embrace.

But then reality came crashing back. She placed her hands on his chest and pushed him away, her voice firm but trembling. "Dylan, stop. This isn't right. You're drunk, and I'm… I'm married."

Dylan didn't let go. Instead, he leaned his forehead against hers, his voice barely a whisper. "I don't care. I don't care about any of it. I just… I can't lose you again, Clara."

Before she could respond, he kissed her again, this time with more urgency. She tried to push him away, but he was insistent, his hands sliding to her waist as he guided her backward.

They stumbled into the living room, and before she knew it, they were on the edge of the bed. Dylan's weight pressed against her as he kissed her neck, his breath hot against her skin. Clara's heart pounded, her thoughts a chaotic mix of desire and uncertainty.

"Dylan, stop," she said, her voice firmer this time. She placed her hands on his chest and pushed him back, creating some distance between them. "This isn't right. You're drunk, and I'm not… I'm not thinking clearly."

Dylan looked at her, his eyes filled with a mixture of desperation and regret. "I'm not drunk enough to not know what I want, Clara. And I want you. I've always wanted you."

Clara's chest tightened, her emotions in turmoil. Dylan kissed her again, his lips insistent, his hands roaming over her body with a familiarity that sent a shiver down her spine. It had been so long since she had been touched like this, so long since she had allowed herself to feel anything beyond the cold detachment of her marriage. Her body trembled under his touch, betraying the resolve she had worked so hard to maintain.

As Dylan's hands explored her, Clara's mind raced. She knew she should stop him, knew she should push him away and end this before it went too far. But her body seemed to have a will of its own, responding to his touch as if it remembered every detail, every sensation from the past. Her breath hitched, and a soft moan escaped her lips before she could stifle it.

"Dylan…" she whispered, her voice trembling. "We can't… this isn't right…"

But Dylan didn't stop. His hands were gentle yet insistent, his kisses growing more urgent. "I've missed you," he murmured against her skin, his voice low and rough with emotion. "I've missed this… missed us."

Clara's resolve wavered. Her hands, which had been ready to push him away, instead clutched at his shoulders, pulling him closer. Her mind screamed at her to stop, to think about the consequences, but her body was no longer listening. It was as if a dam had broken, releasing all the pent-up longing and loneliness she had buried for so long.

For a moment, she let herself forget—forget about Aiden, forget about the expectations and the reputation, forget about everything but the man in front of her and the way he made her feel.

As Dylan's hands slipped under her shirt, her body couldn't help but tremble, as if yearning for more of his touch.

"Mmmh..." Clara couldn't hold back the moans any longer as Dylan's fingers was

pinching her nipples. He kisses slowly trailed down from her lips, eventually landing on her nipples. And his hand slowly slid inside her pants.

One finger, two fingers, patiently pumping in and out of the pussy that was already flooded with lust. As the fingers quickened their pace, Clara's moans grew increasingly rapid, "Ahhh! I'm coming! Coming!"

Seeing the woman on the verge of orgasm, Dylan jerked his hand back and whispered a soft laugh into Clara's ear. "Your body is as sensitive as ever," he murmured.

Clara gazed at him with a mix of desire and frustration, her long, slender legs wrapping tightly around the man's waist, pulling him closer. Her hips lifted and rubbed the man's cock through his pants, she urged with dissatisfaction, "Mmh… Dylan… Please… Don't stop… "

"What do you want me to do to you, Clara?" Dylan leaned close to Clara's ear, his fingers pinched and rubbed the lovely nipples with great skill, enticing her to voice her deepest desires.

Clara can't help but push her breasts up to chase the man's hands, she softly cried out in a confused voice, "Mmmm… I want you inside of me.

"Fuck… " Dylan gazed at Clara, her eyes brimming with desire, and he found it impossible to maintain his composure any longer. He quickly took off their clothes, and put on a condom. His hands pinched her waist, drawing her closer, and he slowly slid his cock in her lovely pussy.