Page 7 of Basket Case

“Right.”

It obeyed again.

I stepped closer and wrapped my hand around it. The wicker tightened beneath my palm. Another groan filled my head, louder this time. I could feel the shape growing harder inside my grip as new strands wound around the base.

“You really can feel that.”

Do it again.

He sounded desperate. Like someone who was yearning for even the smallest touch.

I stroked him slowly. His tip pushed into my palm, then pulled back. He was learning the rhythm, the way I touched him. I was having an effect on him. That thought sent a sharp bolt through my clit.

A slender strand rose from the basket, swirling gently in the air.

May I touch you now?

“Over my clothes.”

The strand reached across the gap between us and brushed the back of my hand first. It was much softer than I expected. Flexible too. It wound once around my wrist, loose enough that I could have slipped free. As if to show me the potential his wicker strands offered.

Then it travelled up my sleeve. I'd told him to stay over my clothes. I almost protested, but the touch was innocent enough. It was just my arm. Not anywhere near my intimate places.

I shivered as it stroked the inside of my elbow. He was taking his time.

The strand emerged from my sleeve and traced my collarbone. I kept my hand around his cock, stroking whenever he moved closer.

Another strand slid over my hip.

This time, I couldn't stop myself from protesting. “I said over my clothes.”

I remember.

It ran down the seam of my jeans and pressed between my legs.

I gripped the table with my free hand. The pressure landed directly against my clit.

“Bloody hell.”

You are very wet, Kathleen.

Hearing my name in that deep voice made it worse. His voice was chocolate and velvet, wood smoke and embers.

He rubbed his wicker tentacle over my jeans, using short, firm strokes. I spread my feet without thinking. The strand pressed harder.

“How do you know my name?”

It is written on the note.

I laughed despite myself. “I thought that was going to be something magical.”

I can invent something magical if you would prefer.

“No. I’ve had enough surprises.”

The wicker stilled between my legs. I almost complained.

Shall I stop?