Everytime We Touch Novels & Stories

A sudden rush of heat coursed through me at his touch, igniting an unexpected spark of passion within me. His touch, however clinical in intent, set off a flutter of desire in my core. The week had been a whirlwind of work, leaving us with little time for private, intimate moments. Yet, every accidental brush of our hands, every fleeting touch, had stirred the same potent reaction within me.

"But there's something special here. Something I don't have words for." As our bodies press together, I feel a familiar heat radiating from our contact. The same heat I've felt every time we've touched, but this time it's stronger, enough to make me gasp for a second. Surprised, Elias asks, "Do you feel it too?" I nod, a mixture of awe and wonder. "Every time we touch. It's like an electric warmth." Elias looks taken aback, as if he thought he was the only one experiencing this strange sensation.

I asked him. “I get tingles when we touch, when I smell your sent, I even get it when I just think of you.” I knew what he meant I get the same reactions.

His eyes hooded and he leaned into the touch, but he’d obviously gathered that I wanted a moment, because he didn’t speak, and he didn’t move to touch me back. He was right… I could feel him. Not just under my palm, not just under my fingertips as I played them along his jaw to his mouth and traced his full lips with my thumb. Not just where my belly brushed against him when I leaned up so I could comb my fingers through his hair. Every time I touched him, everywhere… it tingled under my fingers, as if some kind of electricity existed between us, a power that grew when we touched.

The electricity flowing between us is surreal and more importantly, I feel the bond between us the most when we touch. Ironically, I also hear every thought in his head when we have skin contact. Like now, he is thinking that I am going to get him into so much trouble if he keeps kissing me like this, but he can't help it. I wonder if he can hear alll my thoughts too and quickly try to hide them.

"And Elowen... we can't touch each other again. Not until I find a way to cut this tracker's frequency out of your blood." ​The "Forbidden Touch" had just become a matter of national security.

I cried out at the sudden intrusion and he crashed his lips against mine, trapping the sound in his mouth. “Hmm, so fucking wet for me”. He hummed against my lips, tightening his grip on my neck as he fucked me with his finger. I gripped the edge of the pool table using it as leverage as I rocked back against his finger. I lowered my gaze to where our bodies met and my lips trembled at the sight of his finger moving inside and outside of me. I was aware of him watching my every movement but I was too drunk with pleasure to care. His mouth fell on my breasts and I moaned when his lips latched on a nipple and sucked it into his mouth as he replaced a finger with two.

A spark of emotion lit up his face as he passed a glance at me. "When the bond snaps, it echoes. You can hear it like a clap of thunder during a storm. And then sparks, no, that's too light of a word, electricity holds your body captive. It doesn't hurt or anything. It feels amazing like a rush of power stroking every body part. All you want to do after the first touch is feel more of that unfiltered pleasure. Touching them becomes a drug and you become the addict whose fingers itch to get your hands on your next fix."

Each shift, each dip, each time his leg touched mine fired something alive under my skin. Sparks flew the moment we met - intense, real, buzzing like a live wire. A charge passed, sudden and thick in the air. Not gentle. Never quiet. It hit without warning, sharp and bright under the skin. Each spot where we touched carried that feeling. It showed up without warning, deep and clear.

"With you. If we're going to help these people understand bonds, they need to see what love looks like." "They might not understand," I warned. "Then we teach them." He moved closer, and even fragmented, even distributed across multiple states, I felt him. Felt the pull. Felt the connection that transcended presence and absence, singular and plural, here and elsewhere. His hand reached for mine. Our fingers met. And even though we were both partly somewhere else, partly scattered, partly plural—the touch was real. Solid. Warm. "I've missed this," I whispered. "Actually touching you. Not just feeling you through spaces-between."