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He slides his hand down the inside of my thigh, then over my sex.
Dear God, PLEASE.
He covers his palm with my wetness and rubs it over the insides of both my thighs, keeping my legs spread.
Touch me, enter me, stroke me inside…
Returning his hand to rest on first one knee, then the other, he scrawls my lust across my flesh, tattooing both my legs in my arousal.
His hand slips down behind my leg and moves to grasp my calf. He straightens my leg. I feel him shift, then I gasp when his tongue glides over the thin skin at the back of my knee.
I moan.
Loud.
Then the marker licks me there.
More. Please…more…
I hear a soft thump, then he gently clasps my hands again. He lowers them to rest them right where he marked me at my hipbones.
I feel his warm breath. His hands haven’t moved from on top of mine.
I pant.
Yes, I pant, and I almost whimper.
I need.
I need so bad.
“Touch,” he says, it’s a rough whisper.
I don’t open my eyes. At first I freeze. Then his hands begin to guide me.
It’s slow and delicate. He straightens my finger and begins to lightly trace the words he wrote on my flesh, our fingers gliding together.
It’s a simple touch, but so erotic.
Then he releases me. I don’t stop. Behind my eyelids, it’s him I see, it’s his hands caressing me, stroking me, floating over my skin.
I visit every single inch of my body he’s marked.
It’s one of the most hedonistic things I’ve ever experienced. It’s intoxicating, it’s selfish, it’s sexy and I know Rock’s watching me.
Then his hands are back on my body and he’s covering my breasts with a thick cream. His touch is strong and demanding, mine is soft like a whisper. My hunger makes me moan.
From the heavy globes of my breasts, he glides his palms over my ribcage, then my hips, over my legs, up the insides of my thighs, to finally coat my sex with the thick creaminess.
I’m writhing. I’m delirious on need, I want so bad, it hurts.
His firm, powerful touch.
My feather light caresses.
I can’t stop myself. I clasp his hands and squeeze.
He freezes.
