Squeezing. Tugging.Dragging him off the path, through the trees, I turn to face him and bring the hand I'm holding to my cheek then let go. Warm finge... pads brush over my skin. My jaw. Down to caress the tender flesh of my neck.The intensity in his gaze darkens, my pulse galloping. His fingers circle, grip tightening and I breathe in sharply, filling lungs that will soon be so starved I can barely rasp his name. But I'll try, because it thrills him. Thrills us both.His other hand rises to join. She came inside and told me time for next drops and took the bowl which was empty. She asked me where is the milk. I felt ashamed and didn’t answer her. She again asked and I told her that I drunk. She looked at my eyes and asked y? I told her I really felt to drink that. She told me again to lie down. I did she come close and said she will not keep milk in bowl this time because I will drink again and told me to close my eyes. I closed mine and after 30 sec she told me to open. I opened and. More

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