The Way I Want To Touch You Novels & Stories

“Blаkе, tоuсh mе. Plеаѕе, tоuсh mе.” I fееl hеr words іn mу gut. Shе wants me. Shе wants mе tо tоuсh hеr, and a fіrе runѕ uр mу spine at thе rеԛuеѕt. I ѕtаrt to move mу fingers аgаіnѕt the palm оf her hаnd. Tісklіng gеntlу іn circles while I hold hеr gаzе fіrmlу in mіnе.

Now he knew that I didn't mean it. “ I have never known you to be that way” his hands made a beeline in-between my legs. I dragged in a breath. “Tell me what you want, tell me how to fuck you, how you want to be touched, and I will make sure that you get it” I wriggled my waist against him when he held me closer. A moan slipped out of my lips before he wrapped me against his chest, hands wrapped around his neck as he stepped into the shower.

I move to drop the tray on the mini table when his hands close around my wrist, sending mini sparks flying across my body in response to the mate bond. "Wait," he says. "Actually — wait." The whole rooftop seems to lean in a fraction, the way crowds do when they smell a scene about to happen. "Elias—" "You know what," his voice climbs, eyes glinting with the particular cruelty that alcohol always dragged out of him, "I don't actually want that." He knocks the bowl clean out of my hands. It hit the floor with a crack loud enough to cut through the music — broth splashing across the marble, across my shoes, up the hem of the gray dress his mother had approved that very afternoon. A few people

It was just that before this moment, she'd chosen to play deaf and turn a blind eye. As long as her heart wasn't with me, anything I did was nothing more than a futile effort. "When I was calling you in the rain, in whose arms were you lying?"

She watched my face the whole time, eyes dark with want. “Tell me what you want,” she murmured. “You,” I breathed. “All of you. Touch me.” She smiled against my lips and obliged. Her hand slipped between us, fingers gliding through my wetness with practiced ease. A gasp tore from my throat as she circled my clit, slow and teasing at first, then with more intent. I spread my legs wider, hips lifting to meet her touch. “Like that?” she asked, voice husky. “Exactly like that—fuck, Nina.”

But the way she was holding me and pleading with me made her impossible to resist. "Tyla, stop. You're not well," I growled, as I grabbed her wrists to pull them away from my hair. "I don't care," she mumbled, fighting my grip. She shifted her hips, rubbing against me as if searching for relief. "Cassian, please," she whispered. "Hold me." The heat radiating from her body was overwhelming. She was completely out of it, with no awareness of what she was doing. Her small hands slid down my chest.

I placed a finger on her lips, "don't make a sound, don't...scream." I pinned her hands above her head, thrusting in. Cole groaned as I went deep. "What's this? Honey?" He asked but I was too lost to reply him, not this time, not when all I was chasing was my release. "You're so tight, Nyra." I gripped her waist, forcing my body flush against hers. My hands found her right nipple, tickling it as I caressed her other boob, kneading it. "You're too fast." She cried, gripping my arm.

"When I first saw you at the auction, I fell for you at first sight. I looked into your background and even proposed a marriage alliance with the Kingsley family. But when I learned you had someone you loved, I let go of the idea. "Though in our circle, love at first sight is absurd, I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you. I know it sounds crazy, but I'll spend a lifetime showing you my sincerity, Lena." I smiled and held his broad, warm hand, replying simply, "Me too." As I spoke, a bright smile spread across Jacob's face. The distant lights flickered on, and the summer evening breeze made the air feel especially comfortable. Hand in hand, we walked forward, with Millicent and Jonat

Closer and closer, our breaths match the same pace. I can feel his heart beat, racing just like mine. Our noses touching, I close my eyes. My lips beg for his, but I can't. His brush against mine, the heat of his breath warming the tip of my nose. Closer and closer and...closer... Only a whisper away, one escapes. "Blake"

"She's probably mentally unstable or something." Her words only stoked Isaiah's anger further. He shoved me to the ground and said, "You're just jealous of Debbie. You keep causing trouble for her. Since you're so concerned about her fingers, why don't I break yours as well?" Isaiah grabbed a heavy vase nearby and raised it high. His eyes gleamed with malice, as though he truly intended to shatter my hand. I became frantic and struggled out of his grasp. My hands were my lifeline—they meant everything to me as a guitarist.