Immediately, the feel in the room changes. It's no longer sultry with anticipation. There's a tension in the air, an anxiety that wasn't there before. Is she nervous about letting me touch her? Does she think I'm going to do something she won't like?
I am not such a fool. I know the easiest way to ensure that I get to touch her again is to make sure she is pleased with me this time. I start slow. I put my hand on the outside of her thigh, resting it there for a moment atop her leather leggings. I move towards her knee, stroking lightly as I go.
"Really?" she asks in a dry voice.
I glance up. "Really what?"
"I give you carte blanche to touch me and you're going to fondle my kneecap?"
"Would you prefer I immediately shove my hand between your thighs? Where your smell is strongest? Because I know you're aroused, April. I can smell it. I've been smelling it since I entered. But I am not an idiot. One starts with deliberate precision when contemplating a worthy foe. Battle plans are formed."
"And are you making battle plans right now?" Her tone softens, and some of the tension in the air evaporates.
"More or less." I give her calf a squeeze. Firm with muscle. "Right now I'm just noticing that your bones are surprisingly fragile. I could crush you like a twig."
"Not something to say when you want to turn a woman on."
"Am I turning you on or is this an anatomy lesson?"
"Which one do you want to do?"
I shoot her a dry look. "Really?" I ask, mocking the tone she used on me.
She snorts with amusement. "Fine, I walked into that one."
"You set your guidelines, female. Now hush and let me enjoy my prize."
"Of course. Go back to fondling my knee." She obligingly shifts her weight, bending her knee slightly so it protrudes toward me.
"Thank you," I tell her in a derisive tone. I do enjoy our verbal sparring. She is clever and refuses to let me get away with anything, and I like that about her. I like that she constantly challenges me.
I continue to trace her knee through the leather, mostly because I know that this chaste touch is going to irk her more than anything. She might be in control of the battlefield, but that doesn't mean I'll cede every move to her.
With the one hand behind my back, I continue to exploreher legs with small touches. I deliberately avoid going above the knee, waiting to see if she will comment again.
April does not disappoint. "It's like being frisked in an airport. You work for the TSA?"
"No. I am a gladiator."
"I was being sarcastic."
"You think?" I retort back.
"Oooh, kittycat has claws. Meow." Her tone is derisive, but it arouses me just the same.
Does she want to see claws? I extend mine, dragging them up the outside of her thigh and leaving scratches on her leather clothing. Her laughter dies in her throat and she sucks in a breath, clearly affected by my touch. "Do not fear, I will not harm your clothing. I know how hard it is to make."
"Our deal was for above the clothing anyhow, not ripping it." Her tone has changed from rude to distracted, and she twitches underneath my hand when it skims up to her hip.
She is rounded here, padded and soft. April feels good in my grip, her hips wide enough that I can hold her without fearing I will break her. Some of the females are dainty in a way that is terrifying. April is not one of them, and I am profoundly thankful for that. I like that she is stronger and taller. "I have not forgotten our deal already. Is my hand not behind my back?"
"It is," April says, and her lips curve into a tiny smile of appreciation.
I move my hand slowly towards her front, over her abdomen. I hover there, letting her wonder if I am going to go down towards her cunt, that place on her that is drenched with her musky arousal scent. Instead, I move directly up, resting my fingers lightly over her heart. I can feel the thrum of her khui through her clothing, the gentle vibration inside her that matches mine.
I have all of April's attention now. She watches me with an intent gaze, as if daring me to do more. Her scent grows heavier between us, practically steaming in the air. My nose is feasting on her smell, like my mouth wants to. I think of all the places I want to taste her, to touch her...and I keep my hand pressed right over her khui, feeling as if I am the most strong-willed male on this planet.
"Is my touch still laughable?" I ask her.
