Novel & Cerita My Love My Touch

The dress felt a bit too bold and wild for my taste, but I was willing to step out of my comfort zone for Henry. It was too late to try anything tonight, though. Henry was probably fast asleep. I would have to wait until tomorrow. In the midst of a dreamy haze, I half-opened my eyes. There was Henry, right by my bed, gently stroking my cheek. His touch sent my head spinning, igniting a fire within me. As his fingers brushed past my lips, I could not resist and took them into my mouth. To my surprise, Henry did not pull away. Instead, he gazed down at me with a look of pure adoration. "You like that?"

“Felix, you idiot.” When I woke up, my face was already streaked with tears. I had been holding onto Eugene’s hand so tightly that my nails had dug into his skin. “Sorry, I got drunk,” I muttered. Eugene was quiet for a while before he finally asked, “Who’s Felix?” I couldn’t remember the last time I had heard someone say his name. It was as if the world had chosen to forget him. “He was my love,” I replied softly.

"Rissa, baby, I told you no man is permitted to look at you or eye-fuck you, and I also made it clear that no man is allowed to touch until I’m done with you.” Hearing that from the man that I love with all my heart hurts me a little, but I’m still glad I can get fucked by him and satisfy him at the same time.

A kiss. A simple kiss. Kingsley never imagined one single kiss could stir such feelings inside him. Soft lips brushed against his own, Lorenzo’s fingers threading gently through his hair, and his heart pounded like it might burst free from his chest. If he didn’t know better, he might think he faced a heart attack.

But this imperfection only added to his allure, as his hidden features became a canvas for my imagination to paint upon. I traced the contours of his cheek with my thumb, savoring the softness beneath my touch. His breath mingled with mine, creating an ethereal connection that defied explanation. It was in these stolen moments that I realized the power of touch—the ability to convey emotions without the need for words. "I love you, Ty," he whispered before opening his eyes again to look at me. Those four words hung in the air, heavy with emotion, as a sense of vulnerability and anticipation filled the room.

They were his constant companions, and he belonged to them. "You are so beautiful, my love," voices washed over him, spreading warmth deep inside. Their touch on his skin, the gentle caress of their lips against his cheeks, whispered sweet nothings into his ear. Soft kisses made his toes curl as their hands teasingly roamed his body, exploring every inch of flesh within reach. They teased until he whimpered softly and surrendered to their pleasurable assault. Unable to hold back any longer, his own voice begged for release as his body pulsated and throbbed beneath their touch. "I want you too," he heard them whisper, their many voices shaking his core. They couldn't seem to reach him enough.

He thrusts his two fingers into me and holds one of my legs up, while I hold myself up with my own arms. “Heath,” I whispered. He smiles, “You like my touch, don’t you?” A moan slips from my lips, and my hips start moving involuntarily. I’m close, so fucking close. “Tell me, Tina.” He said. “Yes. I love when you touch me.” I mewled, and my legs were shaking. Suddenly, he stops and pulls his fingers away. “Get out.” He said, wiping his fingers with a tissue and throwing it in the trash can, like my arousal disgusts him.

His hands were electrifying me, burning me down to my core. “I love how your touches make me feel, Adrian” I told him lovingly.

I felt him touch my hand carefully. I shut my eyes and gulped, trying to pull out my voice to answer him. I was having a hard time producing a sound but I still tried. "I... I-I'm fine," I weakly answered. I saw in Zadkiro's eyes that he was relieved upon hearing my answer. He looked at the woman behind him and I saw them looking at each other. I roamed my eyes around and that's when I noticed that there was an IVF injected into my left hand, it may be the reason why it felt numb.

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."