Don T Touch Me Manga Novels & Stories

"Don't touch me more than necessary." He stood up, towering over me like always. He looked down at me, his hair falling over his forehead and creating a dark shadow over his eyes. But I could still see the shining grey orbs. Without taking his eyes away from mine, he stepped closer, brushing his chest with mine and then put his arms around me to pull my bikini strings open from the back. My nipples tightened against his chest. But he was blatantly disregarding my order. "I'll not let you cum if you keep this up." I controlled my laugh.

“There are no graveyards near here. And what part of ‘don’t touch me’ are you failing to understand?” “The part in which you mean it, babe.” He grinded lopsidedly. Don’t look at the eyes, don't look,, ohh, the eyes “Shall I try again? Don’t. Touch. Me,” I said, punctuating each word, making sure they’re perfectly heard. He pressed his hips against mine harder and my body betrayed my words as my clit throbbed. Slowly, he pushed one of his legs between mine, I bited down on my bottom lip.

he continues, reaching out. "DON’T TOUCH ME!" I shriek, shooting him a glare. "Don’t fucking touch me." "Fine," he huffs, kneeling in front of me with his hands up. "I won’t touch you, but you need to try to calm down whoever it was isn’t here."

He grips me with such brute, bruising force that My breathing is shorty cut by his force. Tears burned my eyes and my vision started blurring. Just when I thought I'm dead he loosens his hold on my neck. I galloped fat amounts on air, breathing hard near his face. this man is sick. "don't touch me," I somehow managed to say. Like the devil, he laughs out a sadistic chuckle. "don't touch you? I am going to do more than just touch you. I warned you but you just didn't listen."

Then I would let the torture consume me once more. "Hey, are you alright?" "DON'T TOUCH ME!" I screeched as his hand touched my shoulder. "Don't touch me. DON'T!" The world around me began to sway and shift, and my ears began to ring. The images were coming quickly now, and it took all I had to grasp for the hand that was suddenly there to help me.

“Please, Lucian… touch me more.” He pulled back slightly, eyes darkening with satisfaction. “Not yet. Beg properly, little girl. Show me how much you need it.” His command sent a fresh wave of arousal through my core. I felt myself growing wetter, the dress suddenly too confining. He trailed one finger along my collarbone, dipping lightly into the plunging neckline of my dress but never quite reaching my aching breasts. The light touches tormented me, building the tension until I could barely sit still.

My fingers curled at my sides, and it took everything inside of me not to throw her over my shoulder and take her to the Tether room so I could make it known to her that when I said I would give her what she wanted on only my terms, I wasn’t joking. “And that’s all you want?” I smirked. “To touch me?” “Everywhere,” she added, and without waiting for a response, started to work on the buttons of my shirt, slowly opening them. Her brows were slightly furrowed as she tried to concentrate on what she was doing. And when she was done with the buttons, I took my shirt off, leaving me in only my pants. She wanted to touch? I would let her touch. I saw the exact moment Meadow hesitated. With my bare

“You think you’re untouchable because you’re the Don’s wife? You’re nothing without him.” I smiled coldly. “Then let me show you what nothing looks like.” He lunged first, reckless. I sidestepped, catching his arm, twisting it behind his back, and shoving him forward into the hood of the car. He grunted, struggling, but I pressed harder until he cried out. One of his men charged. I released the boy, pivoted, and slammed my elbow into the man’s jaw. He staggered back, dazed, before I swept his legs out from under him.

An old but imposing man stood on the steps, waiting for us. Don Luciano Falcone. Even in his seventies, he radiated immense power. His eyes were blue, just like mine. Don Luciano didn't rush toward me, didn't break down immediately. He maintained the calm and dignity befitting a powerful Don. "Let me see you," he said, walking toward me, his voice low. "Turn around. Let me see the back of your neck." I stood there, not knowing what to say. I lifted my hair, exposing the back of my neck.

I move to drop the tray on the mini table when his hands close around my wrist, sending mini sparks flying across my body in response to the mate bond. "Wait," he says. "Actually — wait." The whole rooftop seems to lean in a fraction, the way crowds do when they smell a scene about to happen. "Elias—" "You know what," his voice climbs, eyes glinting with the particular cruelty that alcohol always dragged out of him, "I don't actually want that." He knocks the bowl clean out of my hands. It hit the floor with a crack loud enough to cut through the music — broth splashing across the marble, across my shoes, up the hem of the gray dress his mother had approved that very afternoon. A few people