Page 77 of Touch

“That roses are your vibe?” Andrew quirks an eyebrow. “They’re embroidered on your panties. Also, you strike me as someone who prefers her flowers to make people bleed.”

“Thorns for protection?”

He flashes his teeth. “For trickery.”

The accuracy of this statement brings a chuckle to her lips, which falters the instant Andrew’s pupils flare, her mirth triggering him like an aphrodisiac. It has been over twenty-four hours since he made her come twice in succession. Much too long.

With a hiss, Love releases the bouquet.

With a growl, Andrew drops his own assortment.

Petals release into the air. The posies land as both parties launch at each other. Seizing a throw blanket from a cushioned chair, Andrew shoots toward Love. However, she beats him to it, stealing the textile and ramming it into his torso.

With momentum on her side, Love shoves the mortal into the nearest wall. The violent slam of his shoulder blades against the facade echoes through the cottage.

Panting, she attacks. Shoving her stiffened nipples into Andrew’s pecs, Love flanks his outer thigh with one limb. Planting one hand beside his head, she dips her face into his, their mouths blending. Thickness in the air creates another illusion of touch. Her free palm sneaks down to the bulge in his pants, cupping the rigid length of his cock through the blanket.

Andrew releases a jagged noise. Fates, he’s wide and solid, the pome broad under the pants, the layer too constrictive to tolerate. If she could peel back the garment, he would be long and thick, the head of his cock wide, just as she had imagined.

Unfortunately, shredding the pants concealing his attributes will only prevent Love from gripping him. Instead, she pictures the opaque bead of cum rising from the slit of his crown and thumbs the spot.

“Fuck,” Andrew seethes, his scalp hitting the wall. “Love.”

Her name on his tongue is more potent than a drug and sexier than any voice she’s ever heard. Buoyed by the noise and feeling him through the fabric, Love circles her digit around the head, spreading his arousal.

As Andrew groans his pleasure, Love experiences a utopian thrill. She has been craving nothing but this since yesterday, when he’d brought her to otherworldly heights.

This was only for you.

Not to be outdone, Love caresses the length of his cock. Strapping her fingers around the girth, she shifts up and down, from his sac to the line in his tip. The column expands,toughening under her grip, her fingers unable to encase his circumference fully.

Oh. How this flesh would fill and fuck her good.

Now that Love has finally undergone a rite of passage with him, she does not wish to stop. Something intrinsic has broken open inside her, like a busted latch or broken shell. New magic imbues her essence, fueling Love’s need. For all that skilled gods and goddesses have tried seducing her over the ages, it has taken the abstract touch of a mortal to awaken this part of her.

For eons, Love has spent her days pleasuring herself, discovering the mechanics of her body. Now, she knows what consummation feels like. At least, to an extent.

Encapsulated between her fingers, Andrew hardens further. She explores the shape of his cock, the splayed head and heavy testicles. With relish, Love envisions the flush of his skin, the inflated veins, and the glistening liquid.

Fabric rustles as she works the mortal, her wrist jutting, tugging on his upright cock. Cursing, Andrew pins his eyes to hers, the metallic irises glittering. Reaching for Love’s other hand on the wall, he dives his fingers into her own. And with his unfettered digits, he endeavors to caress her profile.

Synching with her motions, Andrew flings his hips toward her fist, the blanket jerking. He bucks his cock into her waiting grasp, his groans escalating. The noise tramples Love’s restraint, her hand leaving his on the wall and shoving into the waistband of her panties beneath her dress.

Her damp folds part as she lunges two fingers inside, pumping in tandem to the opposite hand, which siphons Andrew’s cock. The moment he registers Love’s actions, Andrew’s pupils gleam. His waist snaps, mirroring her fingers, attempting to crash through the blanket and bury himself there.

Love’s pussy tightens, constricting around her digits as they vault in and out. Her mouth falls open with his, their moans blasting together. The wet sounds of her cunt fill the space, along with his cock launching into the material.

It’s fulfillment and denial. It’s a union and a separation.

She cannot decipher whether to weep from frustration or scream for joy. Instead, she sobs with pleasure, her fingers driving high and soaked to the knuckles, her opposite hand commanding Andrew’s cock. That she’s responsible for every harsh and ardent twist of his features is momentous.

Primal. Jubilant.

Watching this mortal on the verge of collapse is just too much. Her wrist shakes, the cleft of her body needing more. Although Love dreads releasing him ever again, although she longs to hold his cock in her hand for eternity, she is indeed selfish. For she cannot bear to ignore the way her flesh begs for added pressure.

Andrew notices. “Let go,” he growls. “I’ve got this.”

Without waiting for Love to comply, the mortal relieves her. Pulling his hand from the wall but keeping a makeshift hold on her cheek, Andrew unzips his pants and jams his fingers into the gap.

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