The fabric puddled onto the floor. We didn’t notice. I unbuttoned and unzipped my almost skintight jeans, kicking them off somewhere near my shirt. ...is pants soon followed. I shivered with anticipation when his hands slid over my breasts, and down my belly. I nearly cried with disappointment when his hands slid down my legs. He smiled quirkily at me. “What do you have up your sleeve?” I panted. He winked. “…Nothing…” “Li-” I began to say liar, but his lips clamped on mine, cutting me off. His. That touch, those fingertips over the gentle skin of your wrists. At first it's only that - a static touch - but then it begins moving, flowing, tracing down your palm, leaving a trail of energy. By the time it's gone back up to your wrists, the tingling has already sunk underneath your skin, gnawing to your bones, seizing in its teeth. Fingers wrap wide around your arms in agonizing slowness, quickly followed by that paralyzing grip that has already caught every part of your arms, from below. More

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