Page 47 of Look, Don't Touch

“Please,” she begs.

In all our times together at Crave, she’s never spoken until today. Her voice is a song I want on repeat. Her begging is pure heroine. It rockets up my veins and makes me believe anything is possible.

The heft of my cock has never been greater. The bar of my inhibitions has never been lower.

I abandon the Wartenberg wheel and climb onto the bed. I kneel between her spread legs. It feels like home. I lean forward, brace my hands on either side of the bed even with her waist, and lower myself until my chest almost touches hers, until my face is lined with hers, until my hips nearly meet hers in the perfect place for me to enter her perfect body.

Muscles in her forearms flex, along with those in her abdomen. The satin restraints go taut. She’s trying to hold still, but her control is slipping. I want it completely obliterated.

Levering back just a bit lower, I blow on her nipples. The gathered flesh constricts even more.

My heart slams against my chest. It pounds loudly in my ears as though conjuring this new will from another world. A world where I am normal and have the usual desires of a grown man. I ease back and pull one shaking hand from the bed. My fingers hover over her breast.

She nods frantically as though she can see me, as though she knows what I’m contemplating. I know she can’t, but it’s the encouragement I need.

The warm swell of her skin meets my palm. It’s softer than I expected. It’s more intoxicating too. Unbidden, I curl my hand around her breast and lift it toward the center of her chest.

“Yes.” Her gasp drives me.

I drag my thumb over the gentle curve, over the subtle bumps of her areola, and then her gorgeous nipple. She arches into my touch. Her chin lifts. My fingers mold her skin to mine. It’s transcendent. Like the combination of our skins’ mismatched textures and contrasting temperatures ratchet the shocking pleasure. Like I’m different now than I was just a few moments ago.

I fucking love it.

Her parted lips redden, and her breaths come faster and faster.

Without much thought, only an innate drive that suddenly and cataclysmically erupts after being dormant for too long, I settle onto my heels and lift my other hand to her bare breast. My timidness is still there. The bad feelings sit in the background, waiting to pounce. But this new desire to touch blows past them.

I pinch her neglected nipple between my thumb and forefinger. Her hips writhe. Her most intimate parts hump the air just inches from my knees. She pants the word “yes” like a chant to some ancient gods. The flush on her breasts deepens and spreads low. Her sex twitches and pulses, and I tweak her nipples a bit harder and knead them, as though imprinting them onto my skin.

Her pants turn to a heady moan. They drag out and echo around the room. The shape of her mouth contorts into an O. Her hips snap up and freeze, making her body an erotic arch. She shivers under my hands.

Cum, just a little, squirts from her reddened cunt and onto the knee of my trousers. It’s like a badge of honor. I might frame them and hang them next to my Leighton. The famed artist’s work meant nothing to me, until I saw the red flowing hair and sweet porcelain skin. It reminded me of her. Then, like now, I had to have it.

With one last caress, I release her breasts and grab the smallest vibrator, turn it on, and prop it just above her clit on her pelvic bone. She stills, but her moan ratchets high once more. I grab the largest vibrator and use the bulbous head to gather her wetness from my pants. I ease the tip onto her clit and work it through her slippery folds.

I wish it were my bare cock or my tongue, whipping her into a frenzy.

Too soon, her hips buck. The small vibrator rolls down her belly and rests near her ribs. She works herself on the calm, fat head I’m holding. I grip it still and let her. Hell, I revel in her lust. It’s hypnotic. She’s addictive.

I am her junkie.

With my free hand, I grab the smaller one, drag it down her belly and position it at the base of her swollen clit. After a few strokes, her moans turn to screams, and she flies apart for me again.

My cock seeps in my pants. I want to take it out and ram myself home.

Touching someone so intimately, skin to skin, has always made me want to burn the world to the ground or roast my skin, at the very least.

But Hailey, my siren, something deep inside me says I’d find home inside her and make myself home there for the rest of my life.

Home?

Fuck!

I drop the vibrators and scramble off the bed.

She breathes deeply as though trying to regulate herself. I brace my hands on my hips and try to do the same. My heart feels like it’s in my fucking throat, and my vision goes fuzzy around the edges.

I’m fully bricked out. If I were to walk the street right now, I’d be arrested for indecent exposure.

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