Touch Me Novels & Stories

The small hand reaches it. Touch. Nothing dramatic happens. No flash, no sound. Only warmth—ordinary, living warmth, like from the palm of any other baby I’ve ever held. The rope gives a faint shiver up to my wrist, a delicate thread through which the fact of contact passes. My breath catches. “Slowly,” Mae says. “Hold it. Count to ten.”

“Touch yourself.” “Fuck,” I breathe. “No swearing. Another rule.” My breath gusts out in a laugh. “I can’t swear?” “Or else face the consequences.” “What consequences?” Now I’m really curious. “Disobey and find out. Are you touching?” My fingers slide against my sweet spot, my flesh growing wetter by the second. “Yeah.” “Talk to me. Tell me how you get off.” Oh, god. “I touch, um, myself.” “On your clit?”

He growls, and the vibrations travel to all the sensitive nerve endings in my body, causing me to release a small whimper. “Can I touch you, too?” he pleads. “You can touch but not pleasurably.” I smile. “At least until I’ve finished my exploration.” “Alright, my little miracle, I'm all yours.”

"What something?" "I don't know yet." "You had an expression…" "I was surprised." "You were more than surprised." He held her gaze steadily. "The column of light," he said. "The direction it went." He paused. "In the old stories, the ones the elders tell about the Moon-touched, there's a specific manifestation. Something that only the most powerful Moon-touched could do." He stopped. "What manifestation?" He looked at her hands. Then at the sky where the light had gone.

He groaned — low, guttural. We stood there. Chest to chest. No touching. Just breathing. Together. For the first time. And it felt like the start of something terrifying. Something impossible. Something real. He whispered — voice wrecked: “Can I touch you?” I looked up at him. Tears still falling. I nodded. Small. Shaky. He lifted one hand — slow, careful — and brushed a tear from my cheek with his thumb. The contact was electric. I whimpered. He groaned again.

“I want you to touch me inside. Physically, emotionally. Touch me deep, Matt.” Holy fuck. I am going to lose my goddamn mind.

“Do you miss touching me?” “Oh, God. Zoe. So goddamn much. You have no idea. It’s all I can think about sometimes, how your skin and hair feel and smell. You’re silk and honey, baby, moonlight and sunset, and I’m addicted to you. Not touching you, kissing you… I miss it like I’d miss air.” “Do you – do you miss me touching you?”

i like it when you touch me i can feel my pulse risin "maybe the reason you still wearing this," he traces the skin of my collarbone, "is that you still like me. you still care about me "i don't know," my nose touches his chee "yes, you do," he breathes out, his fingers running gently on my neck. i don't want to wait anymore, i don't want to. i grip his collars and press my lips to hi

“Plеаѕе, touch mе please…” I muѕt have ѕаіd the magic words bесаuѕе bеfоrе I know it, hе’ѕ thumbіng mу nіррlеѕ, squeezing and rubbing аn еxԛuіѕіtе tunе оf torture. I lоvе thе еѕсаре his hаndѕ offers me.

I continued eating but his hand was still on my lap now rubbing my inner thigh. I let him continue what he was doing because I liked it. I miss the way his hands touch me. I miss that feeling when his skin is on my skin. I miss the way he makes me feel good just by one touch. I was doing so good and then you do one tiny little thing and now I can't get a hold of myself Nick. __________ SFTC: Obsessed - Miley Cyrus