Arms stretch out, eyes surveying hands, fingers. Memories recorded with every touch. Works of art traced across the skin with fingertips for paint brushes.
Hands discover every inch turning strangers into lovers. They get lost in the tangles of hair. Fingertips once again so gently tracing the curves and bends of neck. The back of a hand caressing smoothly over cheek. Reassurance as a palm closes, fingers lacing over throat. A pause in motion to feel a quickening pulse.
So much power to be had by the hands. Power to hurt, power of pleasure. Power to heal, to love, to kill. How I long for those hands that can give birth to my pleasure through pain.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/i4ks1v/hands_that_hurt_hands_that_heal