Brittany's tongue snakes out to wet her perfect heart-shaped lips, which are now shiny and oh, so inviting.
"Don't tease me like that," I groan, my lips inches from hers.
Her books hit the carpet. Her eyes follow, but if I lose her attention, I may never get this moment back. My fingers move to her chin, gently urging her to look at me.
She looks up at me with those vulnerable eyes. "What if it means something?" she asks.
"What if it does?"
"Promise me it won't mean anything."
I lean my head back on the couch. "It won't mean anythin'." Aren't I supposed to be the guy in this scenario, laying down the no-commitment rules?
"And no tongue," she adds.
"
, if I kiss you, I guarantee there's gonna be tongue."
She hesitates.
"I promise it won't mean anythin'," I assure her again.
I really don't expect her to do it. I think she's teasing me, testing to see how much I can take before I crack. But as her eyelids close and she leans closer, I realize it's going to happen. This girl of my dreams, this girl who is more like me than anyone I've ever met, wants to kiss me.
I take over control as soon as she tilts her head. Our lips touch for the briefest moment before I lace my fingers in her hair and keep kissing her soft and gentle. I cup her cheek in my palm, feeling her baby-soft skin against my rough fingers. My body urges me to take advantage of the situation, but my brain {the one inside my head} keeps me in check.
A satisfied sigh escapes Brittany's mouth, as if she's content to stay in my arms forever.
I brush the tip of my tongue against her lips, enticing her to open her mouth. She tentatively meets my tongue with her own. Our mouths and tongues mingle in a slow, erotic dance until the sound of the front door opening makes her jerk away.
"Don't tease me like that," I groan, my lips inches from hers.
Her books hit the carpet. Her eyes follow, but if I lose her attention, I may never get this moment back. My fingers move to her chin, gently urging her to look at me.
She looks up at me with those vulnerable eyes. "What if it means something?" she asks.
"What if it does?"
"Promise me it won't mean anything."
I lean my head back on the couch. "It won't mean anythin'." Aren't I supposed to be the guy in this scenario, laying down the no-commitment rules?
"And no tongue," she adds.
"
, if I kiss you, I guarantee there's gonna be tongue."
She hesitates.
"I promise it won't mean anythin'," I assure her again.
I really don't expect her to do it. I think she's teasing me, testing to see how much I can take before I crack. But as her eyelids close and she leans closer, I realize it's going to happen. This girl of my dreams, this girl who is more like me than anyone I've ever met, wants to kiss me.
I take over control as soon as she tilts her head. Our lips touch for the briefest moment before I lace my fingers in her hair and keep kissing her soft and gentle. I cup her cheek in my palm, feeling her baby-soft skin against my rough fingers. My body urges me to take advantage of the situation, but my brain {the one inside my head} keeps me in check.
A satisfied sigh escapes Brittany's mouth, as if she's content to stay in my arms forever.
I brush the tip of my tongue against her lips, enticing her to open her mouth. She tentatively meets my tongue with her own. Our mouths and tongues mingle in a slow, erotic dance until the sound of the front door opening makes her jerk away.
( Simone Elkeles )
[ Perfect Chemistry ]
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