I stayed still on the bed, looking at the place where he had been, his scent still in the air. His words played in my mind: “When you’re ready to accept it, I’ll take you.” The thought of him coming back was both scary and exciting. I felt like a moth drawn to a flame, unable to resist the dangerous pull of the fire.
With shaky hands, I touched myself, feeling the dampness. It was new yet strangely familiar after he had touched me. I had never felt this way before, my body alive with need. He had awakened something in me, a craving I didn’t know I had. Now that I was aware of it, I couldn’t ignore it.
I slid a finger inside me, the feeling bringing waves of pleasure. I bit my lip to keep quiet, wishing it were his fingers instead. I closed my eyes and imagined him touching me, his mouth on my skin, whispering to me.
My hand moved faster, following the rhythm he had set. It felt like he had marked me in the most private way. I wondered if I would ever feel this way with someone else, if every touch would remind me of his.
The nightgown clung to my body, sticky with my excitement. The room spun, my heart raced as I got closer to the edge. It was a strange power to give myself pleasure, something I had never done before, reserved only for him. But here I was, imagining it was him bringing me to the brink.
The bed creaked with every movement, a quiet sign of my need. I bit my hand to keep from crying out, the pressure building with each stroke. It felt like I was holding back a storm, my body straining against my own control.
With my eyes shut, I focused on the feeling of my finger moving in and out of me, my body craving more. I pictured him, his eyes filled with desire, his voice a low whisper in my ear. The mix of fear and lust made me breathless.
I bit my hand to silence my moans, my other hand working hard between my legs. The pleasure grew stronger, building with every moment. The bed was alive with sounds, the fabric rustling with every move, the mattress softly groaning.
My mind was a swirl of images and feelings. It felt like his touch was still with me, even when he wasn’t there. My body reacted to the memory of him, my hips moving as I got closer to release.
I felt the tension in my belly, warmth spreading out like sunlight. The urge to scream was almost too much, but fear held me back. I covered my mouth, trying to muffle the sounds as I found a rhythm of self-pleasure that mirrored his.
The bed creaked beneath me as I moved, my hips rising to meet my hand. The nightgown was damp with my need, sticking to my skin, feeding the heat that consumed me.
I pulled my fingers out, seeing how wet they were. They sparkled in the candlelight, showing my desire. I felt a mix of shame and excitement, knowing he had led me here. Our intimate connection and the power he had over me was intoxicating.
I sat up, the nightgown slipping down my legs. I was breathing hard, trying to stay quiet. I looked around the fancy room, feeling both out of place and like I belonged. This was his space, and I was his toy. Instead of feeling disgusted, it thrilled me.
As I lay back down, the reality of what I had just done hit me. Shame washed over me, but so did the desire for more. I had never felt such need before, and now that I had, I wasn’t sure I could go back. I closed my eyes, my hand still near my legs, the wetness reminding me of what I had done.