Touched Novel Novels & Stories

"Your mind is safe here, Melinda. You can share anything with me. Your deepest secrets, your hidden wants. They won't scare me away." "I.. I want to be touched. Really touched. Not just in my dreams. " Touched. The word echoed in my skull, fueling the fire in my veins. My hand itched to reach out, to trace her arm, her breasts. But I held back. For now though. "And who do you imagine touching you?" "Uhmm.." "Your husband or..? Tell me, so we can explore it safely." "You," she murmured, so soft I almost missed it. “Someone like you, Dr. Jay." She laughed mockily. "I doubt my husband will be as strong as you're."

He couldn't resist touching her, he found her skin so soft under his touch and traced lines on her waist. He could see her struggling to resist his touch but her body betrayed her, she found herself leaning back for him. His hand wandered up and down her back as she bit down on her lips so as not to remove any sound. She wanted to remain strong and remain in control. She couldn't let him know that she was affected by his touch but the more he gave his attention to her back alone, the more she yearned for him to touch her front too. She wanted his hands everywhere in her body driving her out of her senses.

Her mind badly wants to protest but her body doesn't. Sunday trembled when she felt his hands unbuttoning his blouse and even gasps when she felt his warm hands touch her bare chest. But why can't she move and push this man and run? Why did she let him touch her body like this? Is it because of what she just witnessed a while ago? Or because she likes it too? She placed her arms in his chest to push him but she realized that it was a wrong move. She can feel his firm chest which made her want to stay.

**WARNING. This chapter includes scenes of attempted sexual assault and may be triggering to some readers. Readers are advised.*** The first half of the party was amazing, I almost forgot that I was at a completely different house, and I wasn’t back at my brother’s. Jake was nice enough to ask what I drank and got me a case of twisted tea in advance, which allowed me to quickly let loose and forget all the drama between Aiden and me.

“Which novel?” Her lips parted as she panted heavily. “Hush.” Zavian’s finger stilled for a moment. “Are you messing with me?” He gave her a pointed look. He resumed his slow, agonizing finger strokes and lightly bit her earlobe before she could respond. “Damn it, Zavian,” she groaned, gripping his wrist. “The name of the novel is Hush.” Zavian chuckled, pulling his hand away from her only to tilt her chin toward him and peck her lips.

"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.

However, his back blocked my view as we were caught up in another world. I could barely notice myself as his body totally shrouded mine. I could see the way his hand held my waist and another was placed on the elevator wall. It was like this popular ‘dark romance’ movie. Exactly like Fifty Shades Of Grey and a tinge of Fifty Shades Darker. Only with the difference that this was dangerous. Just like the book, Hellbound With You, where Alexander Quin declared Abigail as his Little lamb. I didn't just feel like a lamb. I felt like something vulnerable. Something the devil has branded with those sinuous lips.

“H‍old on.‌” H‌is fingers bru‍shed the handkerchief on the tab‍le. Gently,‌ without brea​king ey‍e cont⁠act,‌ he wiped the sauce from the corner of her mou​th. The touch wa‍s so‌ft. Careful. ‍Jessica’s br‍eath ca⁠ught slightl‌y. “Oh‌…” she whi‌sp​ere‍d.

He said his voice brushing my ears. Raising my head to look at his face. I whispered. "Really?" "Yes. You handled it well." He said his hand brushing through my hair. I unconsciously leaned into his touch. A touch I'd grown comfortable in. And for the first time in a long while, I felt… not exactly safe, but not alone either.

There was no universe where his tolerance was this low. Was he sick? I reached out and touched his forehead. It wasn’t hot… but his cheeks were burning. Right as I started to pull my hand back, he caught it and pressed it to his face, nuzzling like an oversized dog begging for affection. I yanked my hand away, startled. He slumped in the chair, eyelids heavy. “Jennie.” “Hurts. Make it feel better.” A shiver ran straight down my spine. What… what kind of stunt was he pulling now?