Page 66 of Keep You Close

I didn’t move.

I didn’t even open my eyes.

I just lay there still, not wanting to do anything that would stop him as his fingers continued to work magic on my one foot, before switching to the other.

His fingers drifted up to my ankles, just a soft touch that hit a tickle spot, making my body jerk as my eyes shot open.

“Feet are fine, but the ankles, those get you,” he said, shooting me a soft smile as his fingers teased up my legs, over my calves, finding no other spots until he reached the underside of my knee, making my leg kick out, my foot slamming into the arm of the couch.

“Anywhere else?” he asked, amused by finding little hot spots like that, but not exploiting them, not tickling and teasing as I squirmed and begged for him to stop.

“I don’t know,” I admitted, taking a deep breath as his fingers moved up over my knees.

Sure, I’d been with Joss for years.

But he never seemed interested in actually exploring my body. To him, there were only three interesting parts of the female anatomy, and he used them to his pleasure, not to try to learn about mine.

As silly as it was, given I was far from a virgin, this felt new and exciting as Atlas’s fingers drifted up over my thigh, his fingers moving in a side-to-side motion that made me wish I hadn’t slipped on my thick sweatpants, and had opted for the thin, silky ones. Or none at all.

Without any thought at all, one of my legs fell open, inviting a more intimate touch, and I felt Atlas run his fingertips up the inner side of my thigh, making that sensation in my core intensify.

But just as I was sure his fingers would move between, would touch me where I was aching for it, he shifted away, teasing over the waistband of my pants, then up my belly until he couldn’t reach anymore. Stopping a disappointing inch from the underside of my bra.

When I thought the sweet exploration might just end like that, though, Atlas’s fingers slid back down my belly toward my pants, but this time, he hooked the material. And, gaze on mine, watching for anything that didn’t resemble whole-hearted consent, he started to draw them down.

Anticipation sizzled across my nerve endings.

And there was the slightest twinge of uncertainty, of discomfort at something new, that I quickly squashed down, the other part of me too turned on and intrigued to deny myself this because of some frazzled nerves.

My feet pressed into the arm of the couch, allowing me to bridge upward a few inches, so he could draw the pants down over my ass, before continuing to slide them down my thighs, legs, and off of each ankle.

Finished, he looked back at me, eyes heated, as his fingers once again started at my ankles and moved upward, but this time avoiding the places he knew tickled. Intent, it seemed, on creating an entirely different sensation in my body.

He’d barely reached my knee when I had to admit that he’d accomplished his goal.

My body felt overheated, yet goosebumpy, and there was this deep pressure in my core that made it hard to think of anything but the relief of it as my thighs pressed together to try to ease the ache between.

Until Atlas’s fingers were drifting up the inside of my knee, making my legs shamelessly fall open once again, inviting more.

He was happy to oblige, his fingers tracing the same path up to the innermost part of my thigh.

Then, making a jolt of desire course through me, teasing the line where my panties met my thigh, following it up to my hip, across my belly, and then down the other side.

My hips writhed restlessly, and I watched as Atlas’s eyes blazed at my reaction. Like he, somehow, was turned on by my desire, not just by what I could do for his.

Gaze on me, his hand shifted inward, his fingers barely grazing the wet material between my thighs.

A low, throaty moan escaped me at the barely-there touch, making Atlas suck in a greedy breath, then tease his fingers over me again. And again.

Until, finally, what felt like several tormenting hours later, his fingers pressed against me, giving me the friction and pressure I was aching for.

My hips rocked into the touch as his thumb started to work little circles around my clit through my panties, creating a fire that flared through every part of me.

His own breathing was almost as frantic as mine, and I became fascinated by the way a muscle was suddenly ticking in his jaw. His own desire making his body tense.

Still, though, he stayed focused on me, on what he could create in my body.

His fingers left for one tortured moment, making a grumbling sound escape me that had his lips turning up at the corners.

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