Her head is hanging back, her long neck and supple throat exposed as she abuses herself with exquisite pain, and then her hands are moving, falling, s...iding down her torso and along the line of her stomach to between her legs.Her skirt is there, almost short enough for him to see beneath, but not quite. Her hands don't stop but continue down to where red cotton stops. There is no stopping, no hesitation and in one smooth motion, as if stripping were a form of yoga, she has pulled the pencil. She moved beneath me, and her breast brushed softly against my chest. I felt her breath against my neck. I shivered and began to sweat.I opened my eyes again and saw her staring at me. Her expression was innocent, almost hurt, as if she couldn’t understand being refused. I nursed my small flame of anger. No one did this to me. No one. I held myself away from her. A slight line of a frown touched her forehead, as if she were annoyed, or angry, or concentrating.Felurian reached up to touch my. More

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