Boyd
Fiona moans into my mouth, my lips a decadent chocolate she’s feasting on after a month long fast, and I can’t help but swallow the sound, wishing I could consume her soul the same way. My body moves of its own accord, erasing the distance between us, my cock stiff as it grinds into her hip.
Christ, this is a horrible idea. A mistake, even.
But as I stood in front of her seconds ago, the scent of coffee and bubblegum and need stuck to her delicate skin, I couldn’t think of doing anything except kissing her. My mind went blank, my vision blurred, and for a moment in time, my being was entirely engulfed in the flames of her passion.
Of being on the receiving end of them.
So, I acted, and now I’m not sure how I’m supposed to ever stop.
Her lips are soft, tentative, exactly the way you’d expect; I slip my tongue between them, flicking lightly before diving back in and sliding against hers. I explore the ridges, lapping at the sensitive underside while our mouths participate in a battle of wills, applying pressure and then chasing it, the kind of war that only ends one way.
In surrender.
Dropping my arms from where they’re planted on the side of the building, I wrap one around her tiny waist, holding her against me, while the other reaches up and palms the back of her head. My fingers twist in her hair, reveling in the contrast of its smoothness under my calloused prints, while supernovas explode inside my chest.
She steals the breath from my lungs, reaching in and dragging it from my throat until all I can think to do in order to stay alive is keep kissing her.
Desire flares from my toes to the top of my head, making me a little dizzy and throwing me off. I’ve kissed enough women in my life to know this isn’t normal. That something profound is happening here, a universe either collapsing or creating, I can’t quite tell.
But fuck if I don’t want to figure it out.
Sucking gently on her bottom lip, my hand slides from her waist around to the tight curve of her ass; it’s the wrong move, though, because she wrenches her face from mine and shifts so my hand is trapped between her and the brick.
“You’re kissing me,” she says, completely out of breath. Her pupils are dilated twice their normal size, and her lips are swollen red, ripe and alluring. Such sweet innocence. “Why are you kissing me?”
“Because I couldn’t stand not to.”
Her eyes widen as her tongue darts out to wet the corner of her mouth, and I can’t help imagining what her tongue would feel like licking my cock. How angelic she’d look as she slurped me to the back of her throat, gagging around my length, letting me own her.
And even though this insatiable need I seem to have for her has only been alive for a short time, I want it all.
Everything she can possibly give me.
“Oh.” Glancing down at my lips, she nods slightly, almost to herself. “Okay, then.”
Hooking her hand behind my neck, she raises up on her tiptoes to meet me, plastering herself against my body as our lips rejoin in a succulent symphony of stroking, sucking, and nipping. My dick throbs painfully behind my sweats, barely contained by the flimsy fabric; I roll my hips slowly, testing the waters, and almost choke on my saliva when I feel her lean into the movement.
Tearing myself from her mouth, I shove her back into the wall and drop my head to her neck, teasing her flushed skin with my breath. I reach the base and dip my tongue in the hollow point there, dragging it upward, tasting.
Savoring.
Pressing open-mouthed kisses beneath her chin, I bite down on one spot until her hands reach up and fist in my hair, another moan spilling from her lips. She tugs me back, her tits brushing against me with each labored breath she takes, and I can’t remember a time I ever fucking missed someone else’s presence around me.
But the second we disconnect, air filling the space between us, it feels like something inside my chest shatters into a thousand little pieces. The kind of breakage that can’t be repaired.
“I don’t understand what’s happening,” Fiona says, blinking up at me.
Straightening to my full height, I bring one hand to her jaw, tracing the curve with my knuckles. The dim light from above the grocery exit barely provides enough illumination for me to make out the explosions of color in her irises, but I can feel the added heat they provide, like molten lava scorching my flesh.
“Didn’t we already establish that I was kissing you?”
“Well, yeah, but I still don’t get why.” Bending, she ducks under me, crossing her arms against her chest. “Before a week ago, you’d barely said three words to me in seven years, and now we’ve suddenly progressed to back-alley make-out sessions?”
I smirk. “Are you trying to say you don’t want to kiss me, Fiona?”
Her fingers tap against the outside of her forearm. “Do you think Kieran would approve of what just happened?”