Slipping Through My Fingers Lyrics Novels & Stories

I put it across her slim, beautiful fingers and gave it a peck on my lips. Can't Help Falling In Love by Tommee Profitt feat. Brooke plays in the background. "Wise men say." I closed my eyes, my fingers stroking her silky hair. "Only fools rush in." As I felt the cold breeze touch my skin from across the opened window, my heart suddenly sank as though a lot of feelings started to explode from within me. "But I can't help falling in love with you." My memories started rushing back towards my mind, my hand clasping onto the hem of my clothes.

"Open your legs a little." I shouldn't have. I knew I shouldn't have. But I did, and his fingers slipped under the fabric and found me already soaked. His breath caught against my ear as he slid through my folds slowly, coating his fingers before circling my clit with a pressure so light it made my thighs tremble against his hand.

Fading in, fading out On the edge of paradise Every inch of your skin is a Holy Grail I've gotta find Only you can set my heart on fire, on fire Yeah, I'll let you set the pace 'Cause I'm not thinking straight My head spinning around, I can't see clear no more What are you waiting for? Love me like you do, love me like you do Love me like you do, love me like you do Touch me like you do, touch me like you do What are you waiting for? Love me like you do, love me like you do (like you do)

The moment the procedure slip hit the floor, Solana instinctively snatched it up and stuffed it away as quickly as she could. However, Isaiah's sharp eyes had already caught sight of the words "procedure slip" on the paper. Her heart pounded so hard it felt like it had jumped to her throat, and she could even hear the thumping of her heart in her ears. She fumbled for a moment, trying to come up with something believable. Finally, she mumbled, "It's nothing; it's just a simple dental procedure. Dr. Bates said I should take care of any dental issues early during pregnancy, or it'll cause trouble later."

She’d do anything for the ones she cares about. “Yoo-hoo, anybody home?” Cammy knocks her knuckles on my forehead. I slap her hand away and shoot her an annoyed look. Oh god, I did it again, didn’t I? Yeah, I have not gotten over the drifting-away-getting-lost-in-my-thoughts habit. “Did what again?” she asks with a confused look. Oh my god. Did I just say that out aloud? Great, now I’m voicing my thoughts without being aware of it. I’m on my way to insanity, I swear.

Losing the last string holding me, my hands drifted to my hardness and I pushed my head back, imagining the only person I could think of taking me in her hands. “Damn it.”

“You have been obedient.” I keep pushing out the words, breathing heavily through my teeth as his fingers slip inside me, stretching me wide. The Shakespearean verse rushes out of my mouth like a fever dream, punctuated by shivering whimpers. At this point, it’s a miracle I can pronounce anything at all. His fingers slide in and out in a rhythmic, punishing thrust that leaves me trembling. “That’s it uccellina, keep going.”

Not when I don’t know what’s coming next. Not when something in my chest screams that this moment is slipping away—slipping through my fingers like sand. “I swear, I’ll come back.” His voice is rough, almost torn. There's something final in the way he says it, something that sends an icy wave crashing through my veins. Before I can respond, he steps back, pulling free from my grasp. My fingers, weak and trembling, try to hold on, but it’s like trying to catch smoke. No. A frail voice breaks through the tension. "Are you sure about this, son?"

My fingers trembled on my phone, pretending to scroll. Then her voice shattered through again: “Don’t stop, please, please, Rafe, more.” The Slip I was soaked. And I hated myself for it. No. That’s a lie. I loved it. I slid my hand down beneath the hem of my oversized T-shirt. I wasn’t wearing panties. I hadn’t planned for this just laundry day laziness, but now it felt like fate. I angled my hips slightly, leaned forward, and slid two fingers through my folds. Wet. Slippery. My own scent already rising to my nose like arousal confessing itself.

Of horrible things sliding down the hall, toward my bedroom, shuffling, slithering, sliding . But never getting any closer. And somehow, I think I can hold it at bay . . . as long as I keep writing. Enough for now. Time to sleep. I can only hope that I’ve written enough, and that the sliding won’t come any closer tonight.