Memories of my past life, before I turned into this, were there, locked away, like something detached, like a play I had once seen but felt nothing about. I’d had sex then, of course, had enjoyed it, but I struggled to connect that with me now. I didn’t know what it any of it meant.
I slipped my hands around one of her thighs, grasping her on both sides of it, then massaged the muscle. It felt intimate, to have one of my hands between her legs. I focused on the back of the muscle, moving until I reached the curve of her ass.
Again, I slowed to a crawl to see if she would tell me to stop, if she’d object.
If she did, I would, of course.
Nothing. In fact, she shifted her other leg, bending at the knee and letting it fall open in a clear invitation.
I pressed the knee of the leg I held and pushed it outward as well, to splay her legs wide. It caused the robe to ride up, to open just enough for me to see…everything.
Pinkness sat on her cheeks, and she’d closed her eyes. This wassucha Grey thing to do, to know damn well that I could see her pussy but pretend I couldn’t, to leave me with the torturous decision between telling her the truth and covering her up or letting it go and seeing where it led.
I for sure planned on the second of those options.
I ran my fingers softly up her inner thigh, savoring the way her muscles reacted with tiny twitches from the stimulation. I traced the inner crease of her leg, digging in slightly to the hip joint there, the back of my hand coming close enough to her cunt that the warmth teased me.
Fuck,this was a dangerous game we played.
I massaged her ass, the large muscles there, and each stroke of my hands caused her pussy to part slightly, to twitch.
I, who had faced off against countless Spirits over my years as a Justice, struggled not to allow my hands to shake. It was almost humiliating, yet a part of me didn’t mind being brought low if it were by this person.
I had a feeling that nearly anything she did would be just fine by me, that I’d accept it, even revel in it.
And the sensation of feeling something new, something unexpected after so many years of feeling nothing intoxicated me.
Her eyes remained shut tight, her head tipped backward to expose her throat. Her tie had loosened enough to cause the robe to gap farther, so I didn’t have to reach below it anymore. It didn’t show her breasts, but exposed a valley of flawless skin between them, a space that ran down to show her belly button, her soft stomach, like a runway for me to drag my tongue.
But that would require moving from where I was, and I doubted I had the control to do that.
I shifted my hands in more, dancing dangerously close to her pussy as I massaged her ass, as I rubbed the inner creases of her thighs. Each pass let me inch closer to the goal that called to me, to that glistening slit that I wanted so badly to touch.
Yet we played this stupid game. Neither of us thought this was just a massage any longer, but that lie allowed us as to pretend and made it easier.
My fingers ghosted over her cunt, and she jerked from the contact. It was so slight that I hardly felt her at all, but her reaction saidshe’dfelt it.
I paused, wondering if she’d tell me off, if she’d tell me to stop touching her.
Nothing.
If anything, she spread her legs wider.
That was an invitation, right?
I suddenly wished I were better with women, that I had something more to offer her than strange, old instincts that I couldn’t fully understand or explain.
However, those fears and doubts couldn’t stand against the need inside me, so I let myself go. I stopped trying to control this, to control myself, to do the logical thing.
Instead, I scooted back and bent forward, lifting her body just a little, to bring her cunt and my lips together. It felt like an obvious thing to do, as though some part of me still existed that could feel these things, these wants.
I ran my tongue up her cunt, and my first true taste of her lingered like rapture.
As it turned out, heaven or hell, I didn’t give a damn. I wanted this woman no matter where she led me.
Grey
The stroke of Ruben’s tongue against my cunt was all together unexpected. I didn’t know how much experience he had—I was guessing not a lot—and given how tentative he’d been, I figured he’d be more a fumbling asshat when trying this sort of thing. In my experience, those who didn’t know what they were doing tended to go right for the action, to satisfy their own desires.