With my eyes closed tight, he climbs in behind me and I have to part my lips to inhale. It’s a shaky breath that’s suffocated in his heat as he gets closer, inch by inch, until his hard chest is nearly against my back. With every breath, I barely graze him. With one more adjustment, his erection presses against my ass. A whimper leaves me and it’s then I feel his shadow weighing down on me. His fingers slip a strand of loose hair down my shoulder and he whispers along the curve of my neck.

“He likes to kiss you here … I understand the desire.”

Marcus

I’m ever so careful with my little mouse. The corners of my lips tug up at the nickname that’s been buried so long in my conscious. It’s been a lifetime since I thought of her like that. Which is quite different from what I imagine she’s thinking right now.

Her shyness and timidness are … more appealing than I ever dreamed. Although my illicit fantasies that included playing games didn’t hold an ounce of wavering. Not on her part and certainly not on mine.

“Touch for a touch, little mouse,” I whisper and let the promise … or threat … linger before I add, “I go first this time.”

The hitch in her breath is accompanied by her eyes shutting tight. The light lays there on the delicate hollow at her throat and unlike what I planned, I graze my teeth along her slender neck, noting how her back arches and her heartbeat pounds. My bottom lip tips just slightly before lifting away, leaving a small bit of moisture just beneath the tender side of her ear.

I can’t resist blowing ever so slightly and my reward is a sudden, sharp intake of breath.

“Your turn,” I tell her, but she’s still for far too long. Doesn’t she know what she does to me? How everything twists with her around. Black and white bleed together and all that remains are gray blurs, bringing only her into sharp focus.

“Whatever you want,” I say, practically pleading with her as I drop my lips to the shell of her ear. “Take it, ask it, do as you please.” Everything about her threatens to make me lose control.

“A question,” she says and the words rush out of her. “A touch for a question.”

Disappointment is a heavy weight, but I should know better than to push her too soon. My scared little mouse.

“My touch, your question,” I respond although I don’t agree.

“What do you want after?” she asks and I smirk, my lips grazing her ear as I admonish her, saying, “So expectant.”

Goosebumps flow down her caramel skin and I’m eager to touch, lick, and cover them in every way I’ve dreamt. “After what?” I practically dare her to say it.

Her bottom lip quivers ever so slightly and those long lashes stay down, covering her gaze I’m desperate to see.