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I look up at her under my lashes, trying to find my thoughts, but they’re all jumbled up. I shake my head and don’t try to talk. I feel myself blush, my eyes lowering shyly as Willow says I’m pretty.
She strokes my cheek delicately with long, graceful fingers. “Oh, I think you might be a special one. So rare. So pretty. So special.” I look up into her eyes and I see the shift, the change within her, as she embraces this side of her. Effortlessly, I’m in the headspace where she needs me to be. A headspace I’ve never been in before. I feel so delicate and I shiver under every gentle touch, as though I might break. It feels like Willow could break me in a second, yet I am still so drawn to her. As her fingers stroke my cheek, I turn my head into her hand and give a tiny kiss, right against her palm.
Almost as if Willow can read my mind, as she tells me, “I could, but I won’t. I’ll never hurt you, I promise. I just want to make you feel good with my touch. It’s okay. I won’t shatter you. You’re far too beautiful to shatter.”
A little noise escapes my lips. I don’t recognize this sound . . . a cross between a whimper and a moan. I do feel good. So good. My lips kiss up her palm to her wrist, my tongue sweeping over her skin, feeling her pulse as I take a little taste of her.
“Taste good, baby?”
I nod fast. “You taste so good.”
“You’re so lucky. You can taste as much of me as you want.”
I am so lucky. I feel it, feel like it’s making me glow. I keep kissing up her arm. Sometimes just kisses . . . other times licks . . . and then light warm sucks.
All the time she is stroking me with soft, light touches.
I am barely wearing anything—only what she gave me to sleep in. A silky top with thin straps. Little shorts that match. All for bed . . . to feel safe and soft. But I want her touches under them. I edge the straps off my shoulders, shrugging them away and the camisole drops to my hips. I’m naked now from my hips up.
“Oh, such a needy baby.” Her hands stroke softly on my shoulders and then she strokes down over my breast.
I am needy. So needy. Every touch of hers makes me tremble. The stroke over my breast is so intense. Her fingers glide, following the curve of my breast. I can’t help it; I moan for her.
Willow’s hands go lower, inching their way toward the little shorts. Slowly, she works her hand under them. I am hyper-aware of everything. I can feel my own heart beating wildly. My panties are so wet, embarrassingly so, and I’m ashamed for her to know, so I try to close my thighs. But it’s too late. Her fingers are under my panties, pushing my legs apart. Willow touches my wetness and I melt into her touch.
My pussy is hidden away, but I feel so exposed. I have nowhere to hide as I sit exactly where she told me to. Against her, leaning into her. Her fingers begin to touch me, exploring my sex so slowly and gently with the same soft light touches that she has been using all along, and I completely lose my mind for her.
This is sex in a way I’ve never known it. It is sex in a way I’ve never known I’ve needed.
She continues to stroke me so nicely. “You do such a good job sitting still. So I will have to give you all those touches you crave so much,” she whispers softly to me, her voice so sweet and calming that I feel my whole body shiver in response.
My nipples are swollen and erect.
Fuck, I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything more than to be her baby. I lean in, trying to hold in my moans as I give her the most delicate of kisses. I listen to her wet fingers stroking back and forth through my folds until they slowly slide inside of me. One finger and then two. She kisses me back and I think I might explode.
I need her so much. I need her more than anything else. Her fingers moving deep inside me make me feel full and as though I belong to her.
I moan into the kiss. I’m so close. So very close.
What the hell is happening to me? I’m usually strong and independent. I’m usually the one leading the sex. Yet here I am, completely vulnerable and coming apart at the touch of her fingers.
I could walk away and protect myself. The thought has crossed my mind more than once. But why would I ever want to when I’m only whole when you’re with me, inside me? Then the thoughts crash around in my head and consume me.
My whole body craves Willow. I know she can feel it, see it, and hear it as I start to push my hips toward her.
I want more.
I feel her add a third and fourth finger and curl them inside working them into me, seeking my G spot.
My lips rest against hers, parted. I’m no longer kissing, just giving her every single whimper, moan, gasp, and beg.
“Please . . . uh . . . Willow . . .”
“You feel so good . . .”
“I need you . . .”
“More . . . please . . . fill me . . .”
