“Is it turning you on to touch me?” I ask.
“Yes,” she breathes. “It’s been killing me.”
“Not touching me?”
“Yes. I don’t see how you can stand it. I don’t see how you don’t want to…to…”
My lips twitch. “Come?”
“Mmm.”
The lip twitch turns into a grin. “You can’t say the word?”
Again, that hesitation. I’m sure she must be blushing.
“Don’t be embarrassed,” I say. “This space is safe. It’s for pleasure, for both of us. Say the words you want to say. Feel the things you want to feel. Ask for what you want.”
“I thought I was…I thought I was here to pleasure you.”
“You do.”
“But you never…this is the first time I’ve even touched you. Do you…like it?”
I pull her closer, pull her wet pussy to meet my hard cock, where she has continued to stroke so slowly.
“Feel that,” I say darkly. “Feel that and tell me what you think. Do I like it?”
Her hips move. There’s no penetration, just the feel of my cock sliding through her wet folds, friction against her clit. She moans at the skin-to-skin contact.
Normally, I would never allow this, never allow this type of contact without a condom, but I need to feel her. I need her to feel me. No one has ever made me feel this crazy, this hungry. I don’t know why she’s different, but she is.
No matter how much she gives me through her pleasure, I want more. When I am not in this room with her, my thoughts drift to her scent, her voice, the softness of her skin, her responsiveness to my touch, and the sounds she makes when we are intimate.
My hands stay on her lower back as she moves against me, but when I move them up to the middle of her back, pulling her forward so I can kiss the skin at her clavicle, she goes rigid. I hear a tiny sound of discomfort, different than any other sound I’ve heard her make in these past weeks.
“Did I hurt you?” I ask.
“No,” she lets out an exhale as I move my hands back down her back. “No. It’s just, I fell the other day. I must have a bruise back there or something. I’m sorry.”
“Why are you sorry?” I ask.
“I just…it kind of changed the mood. Don’t you think?”
I huff a bemused laugh. “I suppose?”
“I’m so embarrassed,” she says.
“That’s silly, Ana. I get hurt all the time. If it weren’t for a good training and therapy team, I’d be the one in pain. It happens.”
She takes a long breath in and then lets it out. “Why do you have a team of people to help you with your injuries? What do you do…outside of here?”
Mmm. A dangerous question.
If I give her too much, she might start piecing things together.
And that can’t happen.
For her safety.
