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When pleasure finally overtakes her, the sound she makes goes through me like sunlight through leaves. Her whole body tightens beneath my hand, her breath breaking apart while I keep touching her through it.
I didn’t know a body could do this.
When her body relaxes again, she opens her eyes and finds me still gazing at her.
“Wow,” she whispers.
“Good?”
She is still catching her breath. “Very.”
Her answer lands in me with a rush of satisfaction so intense that I want to make her feel that good again right away.
When I slide my fingers from her thigh toward her center, she says, “Later.”
“How do you know what I’m thinking?”
“That one wasn’t difficult.”
Then she reaches for me. Her hand closes around my penis, and every other sensation drops away.
This is why I stopped on the couch. I wanted to know what Rachel’s hand would feel like instead of mine, and now I know. Her palm is warmer, her grip changes without warning, and every small movement comes from outside me, so I can’t anticipate it or control how deeply I feel it.
The pleasure hits before I can prepare for it. More than that, it is Rachel touching me, choosing the pressure of her fingers and watching what it does to me. The thought makes me harder in her hand.
Her thumb moves over the rounded tip, then traces the finer weave down to the base, where her fingers brush through the soft green moss.
She pauses and combs her fingers lightly through it. “I had no idea this would be so soft.”
“You saw it before.”
“I saw it. I didn’t touch it.”
Her fingertips linger there for another moment, then slide back up the length of me. Her thumb follows one of the shallow ridges. “Oh. That’s interesting.”
“What?”
“The ridges.”
“Do they feel rough?”
“No. Textured, but not rough.”
Her thumb moves over me again, slower this time. “Nothing catches. Nothing scratches.”
“Good.”
“That is an extremely promising cock.”
I glance down too. “Not a penis?”
“It can be both.”
“Which word do you like?”
Her mouth curves. “Right now? Cock.”
She runs her thumb over me again. The willow there is finer than anywhere else on my body, woven into shallow overlapping bands that flex slightly beneath her touch. The ridges are pronounced enough to feel, but the surface is warm and supple.
