Page 144 of So This Is War
“Good to know. Well, I can offer you many types of friction, then. I can use just my thumb.” I drag my thumb over the underside of her breast causing her to lean her head back against my shoulder. “I can use my whole hand.” I drag the back of my hand under her breast. “Or I can use my palm,” I say as I cup the underside of her breast, wanting so much more than these little teases. “You just let me know what you want.”
I bring my hand back to her stomach, despite wanting to do so much more than that.
If I had it my way, I’d strip her out of her shirt, flip her to her back, and play with her tits until she came, then I’d tuck her into my chest and sleep like that for the rest of the night.
“Which was your favorite?” she asks.
“The thumb drag,” I answer. “Not too much friction, but I enjoyed the way it made your body heat.”
“How do you know I heated?” she asks as she presses her ass against my hardening dick. It’s going to be a long fucking night.
“I could feel it,” I answer as I run my thumb along the sensitive flesh of her breast again. She lets out a low breath as I graze her back and forth. “Your entire body stills, and I know in your mind, as your blood boils with need, you don’t just want my thumb playing with your breast, but you want it passing over your nipple.”
“You think highly of yourself,” she says. “I don’t think a nipple pass is creating that much friction.”
“Friction, no, but will it skyrocket the heat level in your body?” I lean in close to her ear. “You’ll be a fucking inferno.” Then just to test her, I run my thumb just below her nipple, so close that I nearly groan.
“Fuck,” she whispers as she tenses.
And I wait.
I wait for her to snap. For her to flip to her back, wrap her hand around the back of my neck, and pull me in for a kiss.
But when she doesn’t move, when she doesn’t do anything but rest against my chest, I realize that I’m going to have to do a hell of a lot more to get her to crack.
I’m impressed. I thought this would have done it.
Maybe . . .
Pulling on my bottom lip, I decide to try one more thing.
I slip my fingers under the hem of her shirt. I pause for a moment, wanting to make sure she’s okay with this. When she doesn’t say anything, I slip my entire hand under her shirt, letting my palm rest on her soft yet heated skin. There’s no way in hell she’s cold anymore.
“Now if you’re still cold,” I say quietly, “I can try doing some skin on skin.” I drag her shirt up so it’s just under her breasts, and I bring her bare back against my chest.
She’s silent for a second before bringing her hand to her shirt. She sits up momentarily before dragging her shirt over her head and dropping it on the floor.
Holy.
Fuck.
She leans her back against my chest and says, “You’re right, skin on skin really does make me warmer.”
Now it’s my time to pause.
To assess.
To tell myself to breathe and not freak out.
Not twist her to her back and take her tit into my mouth.
Have control, man.
Keep steady, don’t fucking lose grip now.
But fuck, her skin is so soft.
So warm.
