Colour. Part 8

Tate’s hand ran up my thigh. I hadn’t known I’d been craving that touch, but once he gave it to me I came apart like melted butter. He seemed amused, which ticked me off, but I was too caught up reveling in the sensations his hand touching me caused. His other hand caressed the necklace he bought me. His fingertips gently ran over my collarbone, which was one of my hot-spots.

“Why aren’t you close? And it is okay if I touch you?”

“Yes.”

He situated his hand between my thighs. It wasn’t very close to my pussy at all, but I could feel its nearness against my flesh as sure as if it had been.

I licked my lips. “It’s a long story. What about you? Any siblings? Are you close with them?”

“Yes. And yes. My family is the most important thing to me, actually.” I hadn’t expected him to answer that way. He caught me off guard, and he knew it.

He leaned over and kissed me for a few delicious minutes. I loved the way his lips pressed against my own, how his to