Page 156 of Beautifully Wounded

A soft moan falls from Abbey’s lips and into mine when I deepen the kiss, and I shift closer, my body nearly flush with hers, but not quite. I don’t want to make her feel smothered, but I want her to feel the heat of my body. I want her to know what she does to me.

Reluctantly, I break the kiss, knowing all I want to do is lose control with her, and I’m right on the edge of doing that.

“Can I touch you now?” I rasp, holding up my hand again, and she nods, accepting it in hers.

For a long moment, she just stares at the pads of my fingers, holding my hand up between us. I can’t tell what she’s thinking. Maybe she’s trying to figure out how to get out of this. Or maybe she’s trying to figure out if she wants me over or under her clothes.

Whatever her thought process, a moment later she comes to her decision, and directs our hands under the sheet and between her legs.

Even though she’s the one guiding my hand, she gasps and jerks at the first contact over her shorts, but when I don’t do anything, my fingers remaining relaxed and at her disposal, she sighs and presses my fingers to the seam that runs through the centre of her mound.

She holds it there for a moment, and small trembles rattle from her hand and into mine.

She’s scared.

Nervous.

Yet determined.

I feel privileged that she trusts me enough to try this.

“Do you need anything else from me, Angel? Do you want me to put a pillow over my head?”

“No.” She giggles, her eyes darting to mine before she turns serious. “No, I need to see you.”

“Do you want me to talk, sing, whisper?”

“Definitely talk… but like…” she bites her lip before whispering, “dirty.”

“So, it’s okay for me to tell you how much I ache to feel how wet your pussy is?”

“Yes,” she rushes out breathlessly, her fingers pressing into mine, which puts more pressure between her legs.

“I can’t wait to taste you again, Abs. You have the sweetest nectar.”

She moans quietly, and I feel her pelvis shift under my fingers, pushing against them, seeking more.

“I really want to feel what it’s like to slide my fingers into your tight cunt,” I rasp, and she stiffens, her half-lidded eyes snapping wide.

Fuck. She obviously doesn’t like that word.

“Forget I said that,” I demand, and she nods, although she’s still as stiff as a board, so I try again.

“I really want to feel what it’s like to slide my fingers into your tight pussy.”

She relaxes, thank fuck, and starts moving my hand with hers, rubbing my fingers over her mound.

Okay, so cunt is a no, and pussy is a yes. Noted.

Shit. This is a lot of pressure.

What if I do or say something that is a real trigger for her?

What if I make things worse for her?

Even as I think it, she moves our hands so my fingers run over the seam again, another whimper of a moan falling from her parted lips.

Fuck. It’s okay. She’s here with me. She wants this.

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