Page 97 of Look, Don't Touch

“You feel so good wrapped around my fingers. So hot and tight for me.”

She nods against my cheek. Her breaths are coming in tiny gasps. They dance over my neck.

“Arlo.” She chokes. Her hands are balled into fists. “Can I touch you?”

“Yes.” I expect her hands to shoot to my throbbing cock, but they don’t. She wraps her fingers around the back of my neck while her other hand drapes across my back. Her hold is tighter than her cunt. She pulls me close as though she’s scared I’ll vanish. “I’m right here, Hailey. I have my fingers inside you.”

“You’re so deep. Arlo, you’re in me so deep.”

I know she doesn’t mean physically because I’ve been a hell of a lot deeper than this.

“I know.” I’m in so deep, I’ll never find my way out, and I don’t want to. “How does it make you feel?”

Her fingers thread through my hair, tugging. “Too good,” she sobs.

My hand slips from her butt up her back to hold her close. Skin to skin. “Then you take it, Hailey. Take me deep and show me how you love it.”

How you love me.

I don’t dare say it, but I think it as I curl my fingers inside her body.

“Yes, I am. I will. I do. I…” Her words break off into a moan, and her body convulses in my arms. Her pussy squeezes my fingers. I milk her release, making it last.

She comes down in a melted heap. Her weight presses against me. I remove my fingers and arm from her body and adjust her clothes while she burrows under my chin. Her shoulders shake, and wet tears slip down my neck. My heart, the calcified rock she revived, cracks under the onslaught.

“Come here.” I gather her onto my lap, cradling her back in one arm and her scrunched legs in the other. “I’ve got you,” I whisper. “You’re safe.”

She clings to my shirt and cries against my neck. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. You have nothing for which you should be sorry.”

“We all do,” she hiccups.

“I don’t believe that.” I smooth my hand over her hair. “We apologize too much. Some things, many things, don’t warrant contrition. Some things just are.” When I press my lips to her forehead, her skin is hot with a fine layer of sweat. I lick my lips and grin at her taste. “You shouldn’t apologize for crying in my arms. As much as I hate that you’re hurting, I love that you’re giving me your tears.”

I release her legs, tilt her chin up, and lick the tears from her cheeks. “I’ll take them, drink them down, and give them back in the form of cum. That way, they can’t hurt you anymore.”

“Arlo.” She says my name slowly, like a song with its own melody. It’s music to my ears, when my name has often been a curse. Her palm cups my cheek. She pulls my lips to her wet ones, and I suck any sign of tears from her mouth. “You’re my angel with little devil horns propping up your halo.”

You really have no idea how right you are.

We pull up to a business that looks a bit like an upscale barbershop. I press the intercom to the front. “Circle the block for me.”

“Yes, sir.” My driver continues. Hailey’s gaze flits to the storefront and then back to me. She makes no move to escape my arms.

I smooth the smudges of mascara from the corners of her eyes but don’t press her to say more.

“Were you…Have you…” She bites her lips together.

“Anything, Hailey.” I kiss the tip of her nose. “Maybe one day, you’ll believe me."

She pulls in a shuddered breath. “Have you forgiven your uncle?”

My body goes hot. The inside of a quaking volcano. I kiss her lips and sit her up on my lap to face me. “He does not deserve my forgiveness.”

“They say.” She shrugs. “Some people say, many therapists, that you should forgive for your own peace.” Her head shakes. “I haven’t been able to…” She trails off.

“Some people, many therapists,” I offer her a smile that surprisingly reaches my eyes, “are full of shit. I’m working on forgiving myself. I am the only one in that equation that deserves it.” My smile falls. “If you’re finding it hard to forgive, it’s possible that the person doesn't deserve it, but I know you deserve whatever forgiveness you have to offer.”

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