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He switched to drawing light circles on my skin a few inches above each nipple, swirling around them in a ever-tightening spiral but never touching them directly.
The moment my breath hitched, he abandoned that teasing and simultaneously slid his fingers outwards along the top of the upper lines of rope on my chest all the way out to where they disappeared under my armpits. More shivers prickled my skin, and he reversed the motion. Then he repeated it on the underside of those same ropes.
"I wonder if he knows how to play you.
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My chosen field ended up being too broad. After graduation, I did some subbing and really liked the science classes. But I didn't have a teaching degree to make it fulltime. And I didn't have the money to get the additional classes that would allow me to do that or get a higher degree.
Able to give. Which meant I'd have to let Chris go. I choked back a sob from the relief that I wouldn't have to do it now. That the truth was bearable.
A slight shift up caused the backs of his fingers to brush under my breasts. I flinched and cooed. Then he was traveling back to the middle and upwards again through the valley. I whimpered all the way only to gasp when his fingers turned outward and briefly brushed the insides of my breasts.
Beneath my back, I fisted my hands, willing myself to hang on.
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"You look lost in thought," Chris said, joining me. Due to the lack of space, we both used our clipboards as placemats. He folded his arms on the table as well, one hand around his paper cup.
"What's going on behind those beautiful emerald eyes?" My cheeks burned, and I could only look as high as his single-dimpled mouth while my hands fumbled at opening the wrapper on my sandwich.
Which made me think of the whip the lead character used. And that made my pussy throb. While I had no desire to be afflicted with it, just the thought of the implement being brandished was surprisingly arousing. More of my naughtier side revealing itself, as Chris would say.
The questions had both startled and intrigued me. I'd fought against reading them all. Answering them, even in my head. Afraid of what they'd reveal about myself.