When he took his fingers away, leaving her aching, she whined like a child.
“We have time, sweetheart, and I’m going to take my time.”
She almost blurted out a protest. Take me now; put your hands on me now. She managed to close her lips.
He stroked down her thigh, his hand so big that his fingers could curl underneath. His knuckles traced the path back up, across her tender, sensitive inner thigh, lightly over her pubis, and down the other leg. Almost to the right spot. Exquisite torture. Her fingernails dug into her palms as he stroked her legs, the curls on her pubis, the soft crease where her hip met her leg.
Her c******s throbbed more with each pass, with each time he didn’t touch her where she so needed to be touched. “Please,” she whispered, aching with longing.
“What do you ca
