28.

His touches did do wicked things to me, yes. But it soon became more than that. I simply just craved being close to him in the annoying and clingy kind of way, but it was truthfully what I most desired. I realise it sounds foolish, and borderline obsessive, but that's the thing about addictions.

They take you to a place of insanity, whereby you're thriving off the crazy ways in which you find yourself needing them.

He slid his palm down flat against my stomach, applying light pressure, as his eyes burned into mine. It felt so good I thought I was going to crack - this overwhelming need of desire was something I knew even then that I couldn't get used to. When he reached the hem of my simple cotton panties, he suddenly stopped his movements, and I tilt my head slightly to look at his hand on my body.

"Don't stop," I practically begged, and his lips turned into a slight smile before he looked down.

"I'm not. I just want to make sure you're okay with this."