Fuck.
“I would reach out. My fingers would brush against your cheek, your jaw.”
She lets out a soft gasp, her breath hitching as she brings her fingertips to her jawline.
I have no fucking idea what I’m doing. But I can see and feel that she wants this as much as I do. I don’t know if I could do what I’m describing in real life. I don’t know if I’d have the balls to even try or if my lack of experience would ruin this for us. But I know what my instinct tells me to do with her.
And I’ve read enough romance novels in my life to know how this should work.
“I would lean in closer,” I continue, my voice dropping to a husky whisper. “I’d tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear, my fingers lingering there.”
I watch her react, her body responding to my words. Her breathing becomes shallow, her chest rising and falling with each breath. I can almost feel her warmth, the softness of her skin under my fingertips.
“What next?” she whispers, her voice filled with anticipation.
Every nerve in my body is on fire, craving her touch, her closeness. I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself as I continue to paint this vivid picture.
“I’d trace my thumb over your lower lip,” I say, my breath hitching as I imagine it. “Feeling how plump and warm it is. Then, I’d lean in and brush my lips against yours, so gently, waiting for you to respond.”
She shivers, her lips parting as if she’s already feeling my touch. I’m right there with her, my body reacting to every word, every imagined touch.
I’m so fucking hard for her.
But that’s nothing new.
“And when you kiss me back,” I continue, a tremor running through me. “I’d deepen the kiss, savoring the taste of you, the feel of you. My hands would move to your waist, pulling you closer, wanting to feel every inch of you against me.”
Her hands move to her waist, her fingers tracing the curve of her hips as if she’s begging for my touch, her body arching. The sight of her like this, responding to my words, drives me wild.
God, I ache to feel her beneath me. I want to glide my palm up the outside of her thighs, slide my fingers under her shorts.
“I’d explore every part of you, Amelia,” I whisper, each word thick with need. “I’d lose myself, discovering what makes you shiver, what makes you moan. I’d trail my lips across the nape of your neck, down your shoulders, every inch I can reach. I want to know you completely.”
A breathy moan escapes her, cutting through the silence, and her body quivers in anticipation. Her nipples strain against theflimsy fabric of her camisole, and my cock pulses in response. The need to be inside her, to claim her, is overwhelming.
“I want that, Oliver,” she murmurs, the raw desire in her words matching my own. “I want you.”
And I want you more than anything. But I have no idea how to please you, so you have to help me a little from here on out.
“Touch yourself for me, Amelia,” I command softly, my heart pounding. “Imagine my hands guiding yours. Show me what you want me to do to you.”
She hesitates for a moment, then slowly brings her hand to her chest, her fingers grazing her nipples over the fabric.
“That’s it,” I urge, my breath catching with anticipation. “Touch yourself the way you want me to touch you.”
Her other hand moves down her body, slipping under the waistband of her pajama shorts. She lets out a gasp as she begins to touch herself, her breath quickening with each stroke, her hips bucking against the sensation. My own need builds, the ache between my legs growing more intense.
Fuck, what I would do to sit next to her right now.
“Tell me what you’re feeling,” I whisper, trying hard to keep myself from reaching into my own pants.
This isfor her.
I’m not a creep that jerks off to her without her knowing about it.
“It feels good,” she moans, her voice barely audible. “I’m imagining it’s you, Oliver. Your hands, your touch.”
Jesus.
