“His grip on my shoulder tightens. His other hand behind my head caresses me softly and I sigh. "Touch me, Skye." His voice is rough, almost sounding like a groan.” — Stephanie Witter Copy Share Image
If by chance I seated myself to write, she very slyly, very tenderly, seeking protection and caresses, would softly take her place on my knee and follow the comings and goings of my pen - sometimes effacing, with an unintentional… — Pierre Loti Copy Share Image
