Gentle Touch Smile Novels & Stories

He played with my hair, twirling my curls around his tattooed fingers. I took a deep breath, involuntarily picturing the scene of him pressing my face into the glass table and fucking me from behind. The thought was intrusive. And too vivid for comfort. I did want that. “Brave will be touching you here,”he murmured, letting the back of his fingers graze my collar bones. “And here” he moved over my exposed cleavage,touching the skin softly and I let him, because he was hot. “Knowing that all these men are watching”. He nodded his head to the left,into the group of men he wasn’t even looking at.

I kissed her neck, my touch gentle, careful, letting her know that I was there for her. “You’re so beautiful.” I whispered aligning myself with her, making her gasp before I moved away. She looked up at me, her eyes meeting mine as I pushed my finger inside her, stretching her just a little. She whimpered as she wrapped her hand around my arm, I kissed her forehead softly. “It is going to hurt just a little. But I am going to be as gentle as I can. And the pain won’t last long.” My eyes were fixed on hers, and she nodded before I pulled my finger out of her, pushing just the head inside her, making her gasp. I kissed her jawline softly, knowing that she was tensing. “Relax, baby.”

I leaned back into the bubbles, eyes closing as a small moan of relief escaped my lips. His hands were warm. His touch precise. Protective, but somehow… gentle. Not the kind of gentle that was patronizing or soft in a way that made you feel weak. No, this was steady, knowing, and careful, like he understood every nerve ending I had without me even needing to say a word.

The touch was so soft as if he was caressing her. No. It’s not a kiss. It can’t be a kiss. It is just a peace offering. He wasn’t trying to intimidate her with the kiss. There was no effort to push the tongue in her mouth. He was smooching her. Very delicately. As if she was made of glass. Her hands went to his taut chest. She could feel more muscles there. Her hand crawled to his shoulder and held his shirt for some sanity. She could feel his one hand above her waist, pressing her to him but he was not doing anything to draw her to him intimately.

Lena's mouth dropped open in a soft, stunned breath. A beat of silence lay between them. Heavy. Charged. Then, very slowly, Lena smiled. Not the token smile she gave to customers. Not the cautious smile she saved for strangers. A real smile. Soft and shining and so achingly beautiful. Julian's chest ached. Without thinking, he reached out — hardly a fraction — his fingers gliding against hers where she stretched across the counter. The contact was like a shock of electricity. But Lena didn't jerk back. Instead, she shifted her hand so that his fingers wrapped around hers.

Struggling to touch her. Eirene sees his struggle. To have her throat clog. Taking in a deep breath. She moves her face closer to his fingers. Finally making him touch her. A sad smile comes on his lips. As he still feels those sparks. His grey eyes staring into her tear welled eyes. " Y-ou loo-k beautiful." A sad smile escapes her lips. Moving her head in a no. She speaks in a broken voice. " Shh don't say anything. Save your energy. "

And where did he go? I just cringed when I saw how that girl blushed. "Ahh, no no. It's okay. I know and I understand," said the woman. "By the way, I am Kaye Tolentino." His introduction. What a thick face! Just now when he screamed it was like there was no tomorrow 'then someone handsome just faced him like he was a gentle tiger? Very plastic! "Huh, plastic.." I whispered as if he heard it so he looked at me again.

His touch sent a shiver of unexpected excitement coursing through me. In a teasing tone, he remarked, "Still eating like a kid." With that, he carefully wiped a piece of food from the corner of my mouth, his touch tender and caring. It was a simple gesture, meant to ensure I had not missed a trace of the delightful meal he had prepared.

Every touch, every sigh, every gentle brush of skin against skin is enough to send waves of warmth through me. He smiles softly, almost tenderly. “Then let me,” he murmurs, and I feel the subtle, deliberate movements he uses to draw me to the edge without crossing it, small, controlled pressures, whispered words in my ear, gentle explorations of pleasure that leave me trembling but fully alive.

“Ah, do you want to talk about what has upset you? I hate to see tear tracks on your face.” He reaches forward and watches my reactions as he gently strokes my tear-stained cheek. I hold my breath but also hold eye contact with him as I bravely try to ignore my impulse to flinch away. His touch sends tingles through my cheek where his fingertip connects, and I take a shuddering breath in as he slowly moves to cup my cheek with his palm. Instinctively I lean into his touch and he smiles as his thumb caresses my cheekbone below my left eye.