Hey, Mister Marshall (St. Mary's Rebels 4) - Page 119

As amazing as all of that is though, the second thing that I feel is much more amazing. It’s much more noteworthy and life-altering. It’s something that I know I’m going to remember for the rest of my life.

Because it’s his mouth touching mine.

It’s his mouth gripping mine. Possessing it, covering it, taking it.

In a kiss.

In my very first kiss.

In a kiss that sets me on fire. That lights a flame in the center of my being. In the center of my chest, my belly.

In the place between my thighs.

Yeah.

I don’t know how that’s possible though. I don’t know how I can feel his mouth, his hot and wet and demanding mouth, in my pussy when he’s only touching my lips.

Maybe it’s the way he’s kissing me.

Maybe it’s the way his lips have closed over mine, all wetly and hungrily. It’s the way he’s vacuuming both my lips, my top and my bottom, inside and sucking on them. As if he first wants to know and memorize the shape of my mouth. As if he first wants to taste me on the outside. Taste my plumpness and my pinkness that I’ve colored over and made purple.

Oh yeah, he definitely wants to eat that lipstick.

He wants to devour it and obliterate it and mess it up and ruin it. As if that lipstick has ruined his life. As if that lipstick has obliterated him too.

Before taking things inside.

Before forcing my mouth to open and thrusting his tongue in.

So it has to be the way he’s kissing me. It has to be.

There’s no other explanation as to why I’m feeling it all down there. No explanation as to why an ache has started up in my belly. The kind that I feel whenever I’m all swollen and wet and pulsing in my core.

But then I stop analyzing why and how because as soon as he forces my mouth open to get inside, his lips do the same thing that they did on the outside. His lips suck on my tongue. His lips suck on the taste of me. They suck on all my wetness and I wonder what I taste like to him.

Because he tastes like cherries.

Through and through.

Like the sugar and tanginess runs in his blood.

Like the devil — my most cherished devil and my beloved guardian — has veins made of his favorite fruit, and mine.

And once he’s sucked all of my taste and absorbed it, his tongue comes out to play. His tongue digs deep, deeper even, where his lips couldn’t go, so he can lap up the last of it. The last drops of my taste, my essence.

So he could lick me dry and empty me.

But that’s the thing, I’m not empty, am I?

No, I’m full.

My mouth is full of his tongue. My tongue is full of his taste and my pussy is full of my juices.

All because he’s kissing me on my mouth but I feel it in my pussy.

All because he’s giving me my very first kiss.

Holy God.

This is my first kiss. And I feel it everywhere and not just in my pussy either.

I feel it in my fingers, for example. Fingers that are now all electric and alive and clutching all the things on his strong body. His rich, dark hair. His veined neck. The crisp collar of his shirt.

My first kiss makes it to my thighs as well. That I keep squeezing and rubbing around his hips.

And my hips.

The hips that are twisting and writhing and dancing against his sculpted torso.

So much so that I think I’m making it hard for him. To stand still.

He has to move his arms, one of which was wrapped around my waist to keep me plastered to him, and the other was holding the back of my head in a possessive grip so he could position my mouth however he wants to.

But now both those arms travel down and down and grab my ass.

And oh my fucking God, he should not have done that.

He shouldn’t have grabbed my ass and he definitely shouldn’t have kneaded and groped and pinched my bouncy flesh as if his fingers are electric as well.

As if he feels this kiss not only on his mouth but in other parts of his body, like I do.

Because now we’re both rocking against each other and my clit is dragging against his ridged abs.

And I’m even more restless.

I’m even more slippery and squirmy in his arms.

My pussy is spasming and ripening even more, and now I know why he said that a kiss with him would lead to other things.

A kiss with him would lead to fucking.

Because I want it. I want it right now.

Right fucking now.

And maybe he can feel it.

Feel this need that’s suddenly eating me up.

Because I swear I hear a growl.

I know that his abs are hollowing out with each breath. I know that his chest is shuddering.

Tags: Saffron A. Kent St. Mary's Rebels Romance
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