SLOW HANDS

Chloe stared wide eyed at him. She saw the heated desire in his eyes and knew he was thinking of how he’d held her in his arms, his hand on her breast, his other hand inside her shorts. How he had taken off her clothes and his tongue deep inside of her. Giving her the best orgasm of her life. He’d rocketed her from zero to a hundred in seconds and she had not stopped thinking about him either. She wasn’t sure she would even be able to.

This talk was just too awkward… Too Sexual and personal and arousing as hell. Mostly because she still really, desperately, wanted to strip him naked and do wicked, wicked things to him.

Without giving her a chance to respond, Timothy let go of her hand and pulled away from her. He didn’t leave the couch, but he had to put some distance between them now because he knew that if he didn’t he would kiss her again and he wanted her to be the one to make the move. At least that way he would know that she was willing to get involved with him that way again. Chloe hadn’t replied, but she just stared at his side, bemused, confused and-dammit-wholly turned on. She stood up and moved a few steps away from him. Her hand lifted to her head and she ended up messing up her bun even more.

What the hell? Timothy thought as he studied her. Was Chloe scared of him?

No, that wasn’t fear Timothy could see in her eyes, but something else. Something much more interesting…

Chloe took another step back as Timothy stood up too and moved towards her, once again finding herself overwhelmed by the sheer animal magnetism of the man. He really was like a predator… Kinda like the man she had been reading about earlier that day , his movements slow and stealthy, soundless on the floor. The muscles moved smoothly in his legs and beneath his shirt as he came ever closer, the very air about him seeming to part in deference to all that rippling power.

Her eyes were wide with apprehension.

“I-What are you doing, Timothy?” she said huskily.

He raised dark brows over those inky eyes. “What does it look like I’m doing, Chloe?” Even his voice sounded lower, husky, purposeful…

Chloe swallowed hard.

“I don’t think we should talk about this right now,” she said.

“Why not?” he asked.

“Why not?” she repeated, with a nervous sweep of her tongue across suddenly dry lips. “How can you ask me that?”

The blackness of Timothy’s gaze locked on to that nervous movement.

“Fine. We won’t talk about it any more” he agreed gruffly, but he didn’t make any effort to move away from her.

He was standing so close to her now that Chloe could feel the heat of his body enveloping her, and that heat and the subtle scent of him were acting like a drug on her already heightened senses. The same senses that had been on alert from the moment he had arrived. Sight. Smell. Touch… Chloe gave a shake of her head in an effort to clear her mind of the foggy haze that seemed to be encompassing her.

“I don’t know what game you are playing, Timothy, but-” she began

“I never play games, honey… Not anymore” he assured her softly.

She didn’t know what to think about him calling her honey, but for the moment Chloe was too concerned by the threat he represented to her, to her equilibrium, to bother asking him about it.

“You are playing one right now. And it isn’t funny.” she reproved. “Please don’t say things like that if… please just don’t”

Timothy didn’t find this situation funny, either. In fact, he almost regretted having started this, and was no longer sure who was challenging whom. Those sooty lashes of hers were a dark sweep against the creaminess of her cheeks. Her mouth, those full and pouting lips that had just felt the moist touch of her tongue, was tempting him to do the same. She smelled so damned good too: a mixture of some elusive floral scent and a warm and sexy femininity… Timothy gave a low groan in his throat as he felt his body respond to her, his thighs stirring, hardening, pulsing.

Aching!

“Timothy….” she said.

Even the way she spoke his name, so huskily, so warily, was arousing. Too much so for Timothy to be able to resist tasting her. Just one taste, he promised himself. One taste of her lips, with the feel of those slender curves pressed against his much harder ones, the crush of the softness of her breasts against his chest, her thighs against his, and he would let her go.Text © by N0ve/lDrama.Org.

Chloe barely had time to raise her hands, with the intention of warding Timothy off, before his arms moved about her. He pulled her in tightly against the hardness of his body and his head lowered so that his mouth could claim hers.

Fiercely. Hungrily. Crushing, parting her lips beneath his as he deepened the kiss. His tongue surged past her lips and into the heated cavern of her mouth.

The hands she had raised to hold Timothy at bay instead clung to him. Her fingers curled into the front of his shirt as she met and returned the intensity of that kiss. Those fingers tightened and she held on to the black material for support as desire ripped shockingly through her body. She could feel her breasts swelling, the nipples hard and aching, the warmth between her thighs becoming a burning sensation as she felt herself becoming wet and swollen with a need she had never known before.

She could feel the pulse of Timothy’s arousal against the flatness of her stomach as he pressed her even closer against him. Every long, thick, hard inch of him throbbed rhythmically against her, in a promise that would ease the increasing ache between Chloe’s own thighs as he surged powerfully inside her.

Timothy knew he had to stop this. Now. Before things got completely out of control. Except she tasted so good. Felt so good. The softness of her curves was a perfect fit against the hardness of his. All of her was perfect, Timothy thought as he moved his hand beneath her singlet to touch the silky heat of her bare flesh, caressing upwards, until his fingers curved about the soft, up-tilting swell of her breast. Not too small. Not too large. Just a perfect fit in the palm of his hand.