The Woods in Winter

That night she thought of Klaus’ slender arm, and ran a different scenario through her mind where she gave the men a tongue-lashing and Klaus remained at her side. Guilt and the screeching cats and owls prevented her from sleeping.

Images of Klaus brought an insistent heat between her legs and she impulsively reached downwards. She was wet between her private lips and traced an inquisitive fingertip along them. She had felt the sensation before but had never known how to relieve it, instead lying awake and sighing with frustration, terrified of her father and brother catching her with her hands between her legs.

Now, though, the tingling was too much to ignore. Listening intently to the silence, she felt a nodule that made her twitch when pressed. Eagerly she brushed it lightly with her finger, the reduced pressure drawing a soft moan as goosebumps rose along her skin. She raised her free hand to her breasts and found her nipples were hard, sending pulses of pleasure along her body when she tugged at them. She stroked the nodule rhythmically and thought of Klaus: how warm his skin would be, his breath on her neck. She pretended it was his finger on the hardening bump and her own breath quickened.