She gasped, her body tensing up, and she was ready to ask him to remove his hand, but then he started rubbing circles over her pulse point, and the excitement won.
What did she expect? That this would be easy? That it wouldn’t bring up memories she’d tried to bury with little success?
This was Rune. He was doing what she asked for and nothing more. If she told him to stop, he would.
“Can you...” She swallowed heavily. “Will you squeeze? Gently, though.”
This was to test her reaction. When they’d held her down, they’d choked her, pushed her head into the mud. Rune’s fingers applied pressure on the sides of her throat, not her windpipe, and she was shocked to notice how her flesh buzzed for more. Her back arched slightly, and she let out a needy sob. Contradicting feelings still battled inside her, but she was ready to explore further, push herself if she had to, because this was Rune.
This was Rune, she kept repeating to herself. He was safe and would never hurt her.
“Lower,” she said. “Can you touch me lower?”
“Here?” he asked, his hand moving down to her clavicle.
“Lower. Touch my breasts.”
He stayed a few more seconds where he was, the heat of his palm seeping into her skin. Even through the cotton, she could feel the raised scars and stitches. He moved, at last, and cupped her right breast, which fit into his hand perfectly. Her nipple poked him, seeking attention, but he ignored it or didn’t know what to do with it. Her fingers twitched under the pillow. What wouldn’t she have given to place her hand over his and show him how to knead. Maybe she could show him without touching him.
“Is it all right if I use my hand on the other breast?” she asked. “So you can see...”
He nodded, unable to speak, and she perceived the subtle gesture through the relic. She moved her left hand to her left breast and gripped it firmly, squeezing and rolling, her thumb and forefinger pinching the nipple.
“Like this,” she breathed.
Rune mimicked her movements clumsily, but it didn’t matter, because his hand was so big and heavy that the effect was immediate. Seraphina’s pussy clenched and gushed, and she couldn’t hold back a moan.
“Do you want to do it with both hands?” she asked, tucking her left hand back under the pillow. “Please...”
He shifted in bed, sitting up, and placed both hands on her breasts, kneading gently and pinching her nipples through the cotton, rolling and pulling at them until she started shivering. She bit her lips, moaned and gasped, encouraged him by arching her back and breathing heavily. He did that for a few minutes before she felt like she couldn’t take it anymore. The spasms between her legs were starting to edge on pain.
“That’s... That’s good. But I can’t... You have to...”
“Tell me what you need.”
“Oh, God, Rune...” A sob escaped her.
He stilled. “Are you in pain?”
“No... Yes...”
“If you want me to stop...”
“No, please. Don’t stop, or I will... God... I will make you regret it.”
He chuckled at that, and she scowled at him. How could he do these things to her and keep his composure? She knew he was hard. Was he not suffering like she was?
“Tell me,” he said.
“Lower. Touch me lower.”
His hands traveled to her stomach.
“Lower, lower... mmm... You’re torturing me.”
He froze again. “I would never...”
He sounded like Matteo had sounded when she’d asked him to kiss her neck. Would Rune kiss her if she asked?
