Just A Touch Of Love Novels & Stories

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"You can go now, Nate. Thank you so much for all of this." "No, I'm staying here with you." "But I'm fine now. Sorry for the trouble." I approached him and kissed him. "Does it still hurt?" I sighed at his bruise. "Nothing, the med works well, but it looks like my gut. Can you clean it for me?" "What do you mean?" "Love me, Nate, make love to me." "But it will hurt you." "If you do, it's ok with me Nate." "Don't force yourself, Ian. Get some rest."

Shouting because of the physical pain I'm feeling on my foot that I didn't feel before. I heard him say I love you to me until everything went to black.

When his fingers dipped into my underwear, I grit my teeth. “You’re so wet, Nova,” he said softly, lips and nose pressed into my neck. Damian was the one touching me, but he sounded just as affected as I was. His finger slipped past my clit, finding my hole where he spread my arousal around. I peered down, seeing his tattooed hand disappearing into my lacy underwear. I smirked—I liked how that looked. The tip of his finger dipped into my hole, feeling me just for a second and I heard him groan.

💫 With love, your author

It was as if the universe conspired to create this sacred space for us, a sanctuary where our love could flourish. Gently, I brushed a strand of hair away from Lotus's face, my fingers tracing the delicate curve of her cheek. Her breath hitched in response, her eyes reflecting a myriad of emotions. In that tender exchange, we communicated volumes without uttering a single word. The language of touch became our guide, guiding us towards a realm where vulnerability and passion coexisted harmoniously.

This was a habit she had kept for eight years, unbroken from the very first day I stepped into her consultation room. In truth, my hands had fully healed by the time we were married. Under Susan's meticulous care, they had recovered without a single lingering issue. Yet, she still insisted on giving me a massage every day. She said, "Your hands are the most precious things to me. It's because of them that we met. I want to protect them well. That's the only way I know how to love you enough."

But oh dear, those times are over. Just as she reached to give me a hard slap I took her hand and said, “your hands become so rough these days Aunt. Let me recommend a new skin care, I saw Cousin using it. See how good her hands are. You shouldn't weaken yours.” Just as I mentioned the beauty she stopped in her advancement and glanced at her husband and then at her dear daughter's hands. Just when everyone is trapped in their own things I started talking, I thought about playing the recording I just recorded, but no, that is no wise move, so instead I'll just walk away, let them enjoy the so-called empire without an empress in it.

Small choices mattered more these days. She sat at the kitchen table wearing one of Owen’s old t-shirts, knees pulled up, watching steam curl from her mug. Morning light crept through the window, pale and tentative. She wondered when their love had become something that only lived in photos. Frozen smiles. Arms wrapped around each other for the sake of memory. Proof that at one point, this had meant something.

It’s a humble request cuties. Love you all….