Page 49 of Canvas


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I sigh.

Bringing my face back to center, his hand slides down.

He stops on my throat.

My head presses back, my chin lifts, my lips separate.

He doesn’t move.

I don’t move.

I feel my pulse beat against his fingertips wrapped around my throat.

His warm breath grazes my cheek.

I hold my breath.

And wait for his lips to touch me.

They don’t.

His palm slides down and stops on the flatness of my chest.

He might not be using the marker, but the heat of his touch is enough to imprint on me.

Shifting his hand, he slides it down and rests it between my breasts, my heart beating wildly beneath it.

My breasts are hungry for his touch, my nipples hard and pebbled for his lips, my body taut and wanting more.

Slowly, so incredibly slowly he moves his hand down, it dips where my ribcage ends, dragging the sheet with it. My stomach sucks in with the sensations coursing through it, my nipples cry out as the sheet whispers across them, needing so much more. He halts his downward travel. My breathing stops in anticipation. The marker kisses my skin again, this time above my heart.

Seared.

Down he moves, burning a trail, until his palm curves over my mound and cups it.

I know I’m wet, and I know my slickness is coating his hand. I also know my clit is throbbing, and I’m sure I could come if he even slightly touches it.

My back arches off the bed as the felt tip kisses the hollow of my hip bone.

Another branding.

His hand stays firm on my sex, he doesn’t move, his fingers don’t flinch,

My thighs separate, my ass presses down, and my breasts reach for him.

He moves to the other hipbone and pens his claim there as well.

Then where he marks me next almost makes me shoot off the bed.

Strong, hungry strokes flow over my mound right above my slit.

Touch me, stroke me, fuck me…!

He slides his hand down between my legs, over my folds, as a fingertip traces the crevice in the center, then his palm curves around my ass cheek, then glides up the underside of my thigh. He lifts my knee and spreads my legs.

Oh God, oh God, oh God…

I’m almost panting.

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