She licked her lower lip in nervous excitement, starting when Ryan pressed his hand to the other side of the mirror.
She glanced up, held prisoner by his gaze.
"Hope," he repeated, although she only saw his lips move, never hearing the sound. The degree of longing and frustration she saw in his singular eyes made her want to weep.
"Ryan, why can't I touch you?" she whispered shakily. She was hardly aware of what she was doing as she pressed closer to the mirror . . . closer to him. She whimpered in desperate need when she saw his erection spring up at her movement. He came closer, too, and lowered his dark head. He stood so near his eyes looked like millions of sea green, cerulean blue and aquamarine points of light when she looked up at him. She saw that the continuous beard and mustache had been clipped very short and neat. The nearly black hair looked sleek as it encircled and highlighted his hard yet sensual mouth. It would be such a pleasure to trace her fingertip over it.
She raised a hand and pressed her finger to the glass just over his angular chin. He inched even closer. Hope glanced down and saw that the smooth head of his penis pressed directly against the glass. She looked up quickly, her cheeks heating with embarrassment and arousal. He said something. She strained to read his lips, but out of everything he uttered she only comprehended one word.
Danger.
Her lack of comprehension and confusion must have shown on her face because Ryan cursed silently.
Damn.
She'd understood that word perfectly well, especially since she shared in the stark frustration behind his exclamation.
For a moment he seemed indecisive, but then he glanced pointedly at his hand where it pressed against hers on the glass, as though he tried to tell her something. The barrier of the mirror and 102 years separated them, however, and she felt uncertainty swell in her breast as she followed his gaze.
His hand was so much larger than hers. Her own fit in his palm, her fingertips reaching only his second knuckle. She shivered with excitement when she realized this was the same hand that had been holding his dense erection when she first spied him. Was it her imagination, or could she feel heat emanating from the cool surface?
She started in s
urprise.
It'd seemed for a split second that her hand had sunk into the surface of the mirror.
She glanced up into Ryan's face and could tell by his rigid expression that he had felt that give in the solid object as well. His lips shaped her name once again. He held her gaze and began to lower his hand. Hope followed his movement even as her gaze remained fixed on his fiery eyes. She definitely sensed heat now coming from the smooth surface of the mirror and followed it unerringly.
They both glanced down when their hands reached the area over their bellies and continued to slide down the mirror. Hope stopped breathing when Ryan fisted the stalk of his ruddy penis and pressed the head directly into the space over her opened palm.
She cried out sharply, raw need scraping at her throat. Heat scorched the center of her palm, but she pressed closer . . . desperate with wanting. His arm moved and she realized he stroked himself as he shared in her arousal. Her fingers rose to her own sex. She strummed slick, burning flesh.
He lowered his other hand and made a protective cupping motion over the juncture of her thighs. Hope whimpered shakily.
They pleasured themselves, separate but connected. Their eyes held. Ryan's hot, almost furious gaze left her in little doubt that he longed to be touching her as much as Hope wished she could touch him.
When his hand moved more rapidly between his thighs, her actions matched his pace.
Desire swelled both in her sex and her chest, feeling like it would burst out of her.
She cried out in alarmed excitement when she felt a new, divine friction between her thighs. Her hips pressed instinctively against the pressure even as the fingers over Ryan's cock reached more insistently.
The solid pane of the mirror gave way to her desire.
Her fingertips pressed against steely flesh encased in warm, surprisingly soft skin. Her gaze sharpened on Ryan. Did he feel it, too? His mouth had fallen partially open. His nostrils flared. Hope felt his penis surge beneath her moving, curious fingertips.
He felt it, to be sure.
Which means he must feel her as well. She glanced down in Wonder, and sure enough four long fingers protruded from the mirror. The first two were buried in her labia and making small, firm circular motions over her tingling flesh. She moaned shakily. It felt delicious ... like he knew precisely what he was doing, exactly how to stroke her to make her burn.
She jumped when he suddenly raised the hand that wasn't playing in her heated flesh and slammed it against the mirror. The strike made a distant, hollow thumping sound. Hope tried to penetrate the glass over his splayed, pressing hand but felt only the smooth surface of the mirror.
He wore an almost frightening look of intensity as he looked down at her and his fingers rubbed and fired her sensitive flesh. Hope understood that he'd tried to reach through the mirror to her to feel her more fully, but whatever force was restraining their contact continued, only the area above their aroused sexes thinning enough to allow this minimal contact.
Her thoughts made her sharpen more on the miracle of actually touching Ryan. The head of his penis felt incredibly smooth. She looked down and used her thumb to outline the circumference of the thick ridge beneath it. When she pressed gently against the slit at the tip, a stream of clear liquid leaked onto her forefinger.
Ryan's fingers slowed on her sex. Hope glanced up in dazed arousal. He held her gaze while he reached down and touched her fingers. They rubbed their fingertips together in a slippery, sensual quest, his seed spreading on their skin.