Member-only story
Your Touch
A feather glides down my spine ever so gently, giving me chills that feel like cold water. But it is your fingertips tracing my curves. I can hear the pounding of your heart falling in line with the rain splattering the ground of your shower. Your breath crashes against the side of my neck before you lean in for a taste, and you tell me not to move. But my body begins to tremble as your lips make their way down my shoulder. And then down my lower back. My butt. Your teeth sink into my skin as if I’m butter. Then you whip my body around, clutching me with every ounce of passion instilled in you. There goes that feather again, tracing the depths of my skin until my legs begin to shake. So you keep going until time as we know it stands still, urging us to indulge in our moonstruck appetencies.
