Page 76 of Touch

Swooping down after Love and using the bedding to make contact, he peels the shorts from her legs and hurls them over his shoulder, then snatches her knees and hoists them apart. Her limbs splay on either side of his head, the tented fabric blocking her panties and cunt from his view. He has not seen her fully uncovered, yet that mortal stare blazes as if peering through each barrier.

Ravenous, Andrew licks his lips. “Grab hold of something.”

Excitement wets her anew. Love’s naughty grin matches his own as she twines her fingers around the bed posts, the position extending her farther, stretching her pussy open like a banquet. Despite the camisole and panties, his gaze strips her bare.

Because it requires a double layer of material to access the unclothed areas of Love’s flesh, he folds the blanket where necessary and plies her inner limbs with kisses through the sheet. The shape and firmness of his lips makes her toes curl, her legs steepling higher. His mouth leaves no inch of skin untended, his lips paying homage as they glide from Love’s ankles, to her shins, to her thighs. Masculine sounds radiate against her, the mussed tips of his hair brush the textile, and her spread folds pulse once more.

By the time Andrew’s head approaches her core, Love is twisting left and right, her digits battling to maintain their dutiful grip on the posts. Tightening his fingers on her knees, Andrew fastens her in place. Though, for what comes next, he should have tied her up. She realizes this the instant Andrew’s tongue flattens against her seam and rides up the cleft. A disjointed cry cracks from Love’s throat, her spine bowing off the mattress.

Fates save her. She has seen the mayhem oral pleasure causes in females. Yet she never knew… never imagined…

“Oh,” she mewls when Andrew repeats this action with a languid skim of his tongue. “Oh, fuck!”

The mortal groans against her pussy, the vibration stoking her flesh. With prolonged licks, he traces her walls, rolling up and down her center. Inconsolable and perhaps a bit miffed that he’s drawing this out, effortlessly draining her stamina, Love grunts and whips her hips toward his face.

Starved, Andrew strikes his tongue into the sheet, rustling her panties, probing her open through both layers. Deft flicks of that tongue sharpen her senses until Love is helpless and grinding her pussy with his mouth.

Then—Stars help them—he traps her clitoris between his lips and sucks. With exquisite motions, the mortal siphons on her flesh like a candied pellet. Love’s eyes scroll backward, her thighs fly apart, and she shouts to the hemisphere. “Andrew!”

His hands clench her knees. Driven by Love’s rapture, he growls and thrusts his mouth, jabbing the point of his tongue inside her, then tapping her clit from within the seal of his lips. Veering her head sideways, Love bites a portion of the sheet, muffling her groans for no earthly reason that she can rationalize.

Helpless, Love unleashes a string of moans, each one louder than the next. Her waist goes wild, vaulting off the bed with abandon. Adrenaline, blood, and exhilaration pump through her veins.

Slickness drenches the panties and sheet, drizzling into Andrew’s mouth, the sopping textiles adding friction. She thrashes, shrieks, and comes for a second bout while Andrew flutters his tongue around her clit. The folds of her pussy ripple over his mouth, pleasure detonating across the edges of her being. Love’s body ignites like fireworks—resplendent and scattering to pieces.

As the volcanic orgasm subsides, her spine hits the bed with a thud. Sweat coats her flesh, and she goes limp, wheezing from exertion.

Andrew’s husky sigh drifts to her ears. She glances down, blinking through the haze to witness him crawling over her. Hovering there, with his knees scissoring her thighs apart, Andrew brackets his frame above.

Feasting on Love has compromised his respirations, the exhales choppy. They take advantage of the sheet, the material adhering their bodies together, the connection precious. Had they removed their clothes, the loophole would have been severed, and they would have floated through one another. Even so, these impediments are inconsequential, for she’s never been this exposed, this desired, this consumed.

Draping his tongue across his mouth, Andrew shakes his head and gazes at Love in awe. “That was the most honest fucking thing I’ve ever felt.”

A god would have praised her flawless curves and gloated over how hard they’d made her come. But as Andrew had said, all he wants is her honesty. Not perfection or flattery. In this moment, Love had been as real as she’d ever been.

Moreover, this man breached a divide to please her, yet he expects nothing for himself. How very mortal. How utterly heartrending. She should feel undeserving of his words; instead, they make her feel renewed, exultant, cared for.

It’s unacceptable to deny him equal satisfaction. Love runs her hand gently over the outline of his features, his neck as he groans, and the jut of his chin, heedful not to let her touch slip past him. She imagines what his skin truly feels like. And when his eyelids drop closed, it’s easy to believe the contact is real.

She wants to discover what he tastes like in kind, how droplets of his cum feel on her tongue. She yearns to find out how Andrew sounds when he climaxes, how his face twists, how his hips move, and what he enjoys. Based on this sensual episode, all of it will be divine.

She manipulates the sheet, using it to descend the cobbled ridges of his torso, down to the waistband of his jeans, where his thick cock wedges against the garment. A hiss slices through Andrew’s teeth. It’s a tedious chore to remove the belt,and she grunts in frustration before his sheet-covered fingers land on her arms.

His tender but firm grip stops Love. Baffled, her gaze leaps to his, those piercing eyes arresting her in place. She sees the rejection, and for a moment, her heart cracks.

“Why?” she whispers. “You haven’t had your turn.”

“This wasn’t about me.” With a handsome grin, he leans into her mouth, their lips blending. “This was only for you.”

27

Andrew returns the next day. When he knocks on the glass door, Love opens it and nervously thrusts a winter posy of needle branches and coiling twigs toward him.

The force of her motion startles Andrew. He stares at the tiny bouquet choked in her fist, his lips kicking up into a smirk, his own fingers holding something aloft. Love glances toward the item, a sheepish grin dancing across her face. The mortal is extending a similar bouquet in her direction.

They stand there, postures and tokens of affection identical. Except Andrew has added roses to his arrangement, no doubt purchased from a florist with access to a greenhouse.

“Perceptive mortal.” Love’s bashful smile evaporates into one of amusement. “How did you know?”

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