Touch Me Novels & Stories

That got my eyes slowly dimming at his touch with my body moving to his rhythm. His finger came down to my shirt, slowly unbuttoning them one at a time. "Don't you have a meeting to attend to?" I asked, gradually drifting into his charm. When he unhooked the fourth button, i felt his hand going under my top, reaching for my right boob. His hand came around it, giving a gentle squeeze, causing my body to sway at his touch. "The meeting can wait." His lips came down on my neck with kisses, trailing my skin with his tempting and Icy touch.

But— “Does your hand still hurt? We should stop by the pharmacy later, buy some medicine and a bandage,” Hilda said, snapping him out of his thoughts. He slowly unclenched his fist and smiled. “Sure.” How can I hold on to this warmth I feel for her… if she’s dead? Without thinking, Aron reached out and touched the tip of Hilda’s hair. She froze. “I wasn’t touching you,” he said calmly, though he was.

His cold touch makes my mind slip back into that dark space. I cling to his skin, the ache growing in my core, making me moan and sink my teeth into his neck. I sense his body freezing. He doesn’t move, not even an inch. I try to pull away, but my body is not under my control. “ T—Touc—Touch me. ” I struggle to get the words out. “ Help. I—It hurts. ” My hands roam his chest, trying to find something to quench this deep ache. It’s starting to hurt so bad. It feels like I will die if he doesn’t touch me now, if he doesn’t make me breathless with kisses, if his body is not against mine.

Oh, my goddess, what are we going to do? "Kelp, how touched?" I asked. "I don't know, but she's close to the goddess. Won't know how close until she turns 17." is his answer. Anyone who is moon touched means they are related to our moon goddess, Selene. They can be male or female, but no one knows their relationship to the goddess until they turn 17 and the mark appears on their forehead. The goddess then visits her relatives, helping them to understand their power.

“My earbuds are ruined. I washed them last week.” “Borrow mine. And yes, hands free. You might want to touch yourself. In fact, you should touch yourself. Let him hear how turned on you are instead of fumbling around with your phone.” Her eyes widened. “Touch myself?” “Think about it. If you’re into it, he’ll be into it. And trust me, nothing gets a guy off faster than hearing your breath hitch while your fingers are deep inside yourself.” She stared at me for a beat, then slowly nodded.

“Touch me!” At my words, Chase gripped my neck and trailed his hot fingers down. As Chase's fingers traced down my neck, a shiver ran down my spine. His touch ignited a fire within me, and I couldn't help but whimper in response till he pinched my nipples through the sheer fabric of my shirt. I cried and swallowed a moan as his thumb flicked my sensitive bud.

Rich touching her the way she'd dreamed about for months, maybe years. Her fingers found her breasts through the thin cotton of her nightgown, cupping their weight, squeezing gently. She tweaked her nipples lightly, rolling them between thumb and forefinger, and felt the shiver run down her spine like lightning. They hardened under her touch, sensitive and aching. In her mind, he was the one doing this. His hands on her body. His mouth following where his fingers led. "That's it," she imagined him saying, his voice that deep baritone that made her knees weak. "Show me what you need."

Touch yourself A shiver run through my body as his eyes gawk into mine darkly. Ruthless and cold Oh God He grabbed my neck dear lord so hard he removed his shirt and damn it made me wet Touch yourself and tell me how wet you are for me No No No I can't do it . I'm not doing it I said lowly I flinch back as he grabs my hands roughly and hard He pushed my hands over my head as his hands wandered towards my panties band as he slipped his hands in between my legs

He takes the plate, muttering something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like, “We’ll see.” We sit at the table, and for a few blissful seconds, there’s only the sound of forks scraping against plates. But of course, I can’t leave well enough alone. “So,” I say between bites, “about this no touching rule…” He groans. “Not this again.” “I’m just saying—it’s a little dramatic, don’t you think? We’re adults. We can survive the occasional accidental brush of the arm.” “It’s not dramatic,” he says flatly. “It’s simple. No touching means no lines get crossed.”

The ache was building unbearably. My heart beat fast. Just this once. If I could just touch myself to get the satisfaction I really needed right now. Slowly, my hands reached for between my thighs