"We're being tender, Brian, remember?"
"That's not tender?"
"Tenderness doesn't involve your cock at all and especially not wrapping my hair around it."
His eyes flipped open. "You're kidding!"
She covered his lips with her fingers. "Shhh. Close your eyes."
He hesitated for a moment and then obeyed.
"I'm going to touch every inch of you," she whispered. "Kiss every inch."
He grabbed his half-hard cock and stroked it from base to tip. "All ten? Give me a minute. He's not quite ready yet."
She laughed. "Now who's making jokes?"
He winked at her. "Sorry. I'll behave."
Her feather light touches began with his left hand. The bruises had faded and the swelling had gone down, but she would never forget that terrifying wait for his X-ray results. She'd been convinced that he'd never play guitar again and it would have been all her fault.
She trailed her fingers over the palm of his hand, the thick calluses on his fingertips, and back to his palm. His fingers curled involuntarily.
