Hello, and welcome to Fiction Friday where I share some of my writing. This week’s post is a response to Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie Tale Weaver No. 106. This week they are asking for a tale to be woven where touch is important.
WARNING: FOR MATURE READERS ONLY
1,801 words, 6-8 Minute Read
His lips left tiny burning trails against my shoulders and neck as he pressed his body against mine, his hands tugging at the towel wrapped around me. I closed my eyes and reveled in his touch. Why was he doing this to me? Time and time again I’d dreamt about him, yet only recently had the dreams turned increasingly sexual.
His arm cupped my butt and he picked me up, carrying me to the bed and laying me down gently, softly, as if I were something valuable and precious to him. He pulled the towel away and threw it to the floor. His lips made a trail down my body while his hands rubbed my thighs. There I lay, bare, naked, completely exposed for his eyes to see and hands to caress.
I rocked my hips back and forth as his lips kissed my inner thigh. As the moan escaped my lips I looked down; his eyes locked on mine, a predatory look in his eyes that caused my whole body to shiver. He smiled and slid up my body, nipping and sucking my flesh as he went. I pulled the sheets and moaned louder. His lips, his hands, his everything set me on fire.
My mind flashed to the first time he’d touched me.We had just been sitting across from each other in the grass, talking and laughing. I had fallen over from laughing so hard and had hurt my hand. He’d reached out, taken it in his and kissed it, igniting a small fire that was now fully stoked and out of control. I wanted to stop him and calm the fire, gain some control back.
But dammit, it just felt too fucking good.