A Night in a Year: 14. Tracing Finger

She flicks her gaze up again, and presses her teeth to her lower lip. His face is insouciance itself, and far too innocent to be up to nothing but wicked purposes. Oh she will be just fine in his hands. Under his hand right now, which is still circling her knuckle.

He traces down her finger, and finds himself stopped by the table from reaching her nail. Carefully, she unfurls her curled fingers, and lets them lie on the table. He is able to raise his eyebrow, and he gives a single, approving nod, and follows the now open line down two more knuckles, and to the cuticles of her nail.

Never had she thought that part of her body could elicit any kind of reaction, except the pain from when she’s nicked one of them cutting her nails. But the light press, the even rhythm of his finger pad, engenders such a lulling that her head begins to swim.

She exhales, and her elbow drops, her other arm resting, almost useless, to one side. His neck cranes up, his teeth showing. His face holds that delicate teasing expression one wears when they have made someone sigh and lose just a fraction of control. Her eye lids want to close, but she doesn’t want to lose sight of him. Particularly when his finger moves away from her cuticle, back up her finger, over her knuckle and the back of her hand, and gently urges her hand to roll over, and he finds the inside of her wrist.

Two fingers now as he marks what must be the lines there, for his moving horizontal across it. Two fingers that bend on the edge of it, curling, and she has to close her eyes to image them inside her. Only brief, for she’ll shudder too much, and that won’t do at all.

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Next: 15. Wandering Hand

Image found on flickr, by indy, used under the Creative Commons License.

Mirrored from jacquelinebrocker.esquinx.net.