By Houdini’s lightning… It’s as though an arc of pure electricity shoots down my finger, zings my nipples to attention, and zooms all over my body before settling warmly in my core.
Is touching always like this?
No. This is special. Only Tigger feels like this.
“You okay?” he murmurs.
In answer, I interlace my fingers with his.
If I were to vary our music tonight, Madonna’s “Like a Virgin” would be the most appropriate song right now.
Holding his hand fully feels even more amazing, but I’m greedy. I want more.
Heart hammering, I bring his hand to my mouth and lick his finger.
He inhales sharply. In his pants, His Royal Hardness is at full mast.
“Kiss me,” I say breathlessly, surprising myself. “Please.”
For a moment, it feels like we’re about to ballroom dance. His left hand is still holding my right, and he loops his right arm behind my lower back to pull me closer.
Then he dips his head, and our lips lock.