In answer, he thrusts behind me. “Not even a little. May I touch you, Yora?”
Is that not what we were— Oh.
Ohhh.
“Yes,” I breathe, anticipation building once again.
His hands move again, but somehow it’s different this time.
It isn’t just that his movements are slower; it’s that there’s a deliberation to them, an intent that fixes my attention.
His hands move to my sides, and I contain myself from squirming. Somehow his touch there makes my core ache for him, and I don’t want to do anything that makes him think I’m uncomfortable before I see where he’s going.
One hand strokes up my belly, and my muscles flex beneath him.So close, but he’s going a different way.
And then that hand palms my breast, and my breath catches.
Delicately, he circles the tip, and even through my clothes I can feel myself straining toward him.
“May I touch you here, Yora?” Zan asks, his voice deeper, and my muscles clench again in reaction.
“Yes,” I say, because for the love of the gods what in the world else am I going to say?
I’ve never been as aware of my breasts as I am when Zan is touching them. He explores how to touch them in more ways than I could have imagined—gently and firmly, a sharp pinch or a rapid flicking over the tip that has my breath coming short.
And only then, when I am utterly riveted, does one of his hands go back down the other way.
I freeze, staring at the sight of his hand, so close to palming my sex.
And again, Zan says, “May I touch you, Yora?”
“Yes,” I hiss fervently.
Zan presses a kiss to my neck at the same time I watch his hand dip into my pants, mesmerized by the sight.
And then a single finger touches me, and I arch up with a gasp.
I quickly shift back down, but thenZanfreezes, just for a second.
Oh no. “I’m sorry—”
“No,” Zan growls. “I’msorry. I didn’t—”
“Please don’t be—”
“There are more wood chips on our clothes,” he interrupts. “One poked me unexpectedly. You’re perfect, Yora.”
Oh.
After a second I start laughing helplessly, because of course I finally get Zan where I want him and my own actions manage to make the whole thing awkward—
And then my breath catches because Zan’s finger moves again.
I can’t hold still anymore.
Ihaveto move.
His finger is barely even touching the apex of my sex, and his touch is so gentle, so firm, so muchcarefor me making me feel things no one else has, and barely a minute passes before the sensation bursts over me, my whole body seizing with it like a lightning strike.
