And the way he looks at me…
It’s not hunger. It’s not.
It’s deeper.
I can’t stand it, so I kiss him.
And we kiss messy, in pieces,
wet lips dragging and slipping.
I squeeze his cock tighter,
wring the pleasure out of him,
desperate to take him with me.
With every stroke, his body jerks.
His jaw locks.
Eyes shut tight.
Breath crumbles.
His hips press into me,
grinding into the feeling,
our eyes locking.
One second.
Half a second.
And it’s over.
His body seizes, and his breath?—
stumbles,
catches,
then cuts out.
A tremor rolls through him as he curls into me.
Then—
He breaks.
And every muscle’s screaming.
His head tilts back, mouth parting.
First a gasp, then a moan.
Rough and raw and torn straight from his chest.
