Desperate to Touch

I want her to remember this night. I want every moment to be different, every touch to be more than what she can imagine on her own.

I glance to my left and the brown glass of the empty beer bottle glints. Turning back to her, I tell her, “I’m going to play with you, and take my time with you.”

She doesn’t protest, although I can hear my name and the way she says it likes it’s a warning lingering on the tip of her tongue. She swallows it and any argument she has that she’s tired. I know she is. She’ll do what I want though, because she knows I’ll make it good for her.

“Strip down.” I give her the command and she obeys. She doesn’t try to make a show of it although she teases me by biting down on her lower lip when she drops her bra to the floor.

I wasn’t going to touch her, but the pale pink of her nipples begs me to caress them. Her head tips back, her hair cascading behind her. Correcting myself, and ignoring the desire that has all the blood in my body stiffening my cock, I pull away from her.

Without her clothes, goosebumps play along her body and after she lies down like I tell her to, I blow. That’s all I do, teasing her, going from a warm breath along her neck that makes her shiver, to a steady stream down her belly and lower, to her sex.

She tries to reach for me, to grab my arm or my shoulder, but I catch her wrist. “No touching.” My command sobers her, and I know in an instant she doesn’t like it.

“No. Touching,” I repeat firmly, licking my lower lip and loving how her gaze darts to the movement.

Nodding, but still holding doubt in her expression, she lowers her hands to the cushion, gripping it and closing her eyes with a soft moan as I blow against her clit again.

“You’re going to make me cum from just breathing on me?” she questions, her eyes alight with mischief and the sexy grin proves she’s thinking she’ll need more than that.

“No,” I answer her, reaching behind me for the beer bottle. I lick the top of it where the cap was twisted on and test out its ridges.

The sound of her nails scratching against the fabric, combined with her chest rising and falling quickly, let me know exactly how she’s feeling. “You scared, Babygirl?”

“Will it feel good?”

“Does it ever not?” I question her and the doubt and fear vanish from her eyes. Her thighs part, her heels digging into the cushion as she bends her knees and bares herself to me.

Arousal makes her pussy glisten, and when I press the cold glass to her clit, I watch her cunt clench around nothing. Letting out a short chuckle, I position myself between her legs, careful not to touch her. My greedy girl lifts her heel, and I know she’s going to move her leg around me, pulling me in and showing me just how much she loves it.

“No touching,” I remind her, staring up her gorgeous body. She looks down at me, puzzled until I add, “Keep your legs still.”

She only nods, her skin flushed and her breathing still not even. Just the idea of using a bottle to play with her has her so worked up. I drag the glass down her clit and through her lips, watching how her hips subtly rise and listening to the pleasure that lingers in her soft moan. It’s barely audible, nearly a murmur of satisfaction.

The sweet smell of her, the sound of her moans, the heat of her flesh… fuck, it’s torture not to touch her, not to lean forward and suck on her clit until she comes apart for me. I focus on getting the one thing I want… her desire to become so much that she disobeys.

I want her so wrapped up in pleasure from this touch that she forgets the rules. I’ll let her cum and then I’ll flip her ass over and ravage her. Letting my head fall, I close my eyes, groaning from the thought and feeling my hard cock twitch with need.

Soon.

The sooner the better. Laura’s eyes are closed and she swallows thickly, waiting for me to touch her again. Instead I blow against her sex, noting how her stomach clenches and her body sways from the sensitivity. I want the pressure to build slowly, giving her a higher high than she’ll recognize, and then I want to watch her come apart at the seams.

Starting at her clit, I press the bottle against her, slipping lower and parting her lips with the mouth of it. Pressing the bottle inside of her, her breath hitches and her eyes open. She’s staring at the ceiling, her mouth in a perfect O when I pull the bottle forward, brushing it against the front wall of her pussy. I don’t pull it out; instead I move it back inside of her slowly, all the while pressing against her front wall. The pink in her cheeks darkens and floods into her chest when the neck of the bottle is fully inside of her. Rocking it back and forth, I wait for the moment when her head thrashes and her breathing quickens.