Then I’m devoured.
His hands on my bare skin.
His lips claiming mine.
Everything—everything!—about his touch feels so possessive, and it’s all so raw and new that I’m ready to scream just from feeling his uniform shirt scraping my bare flesh.
Just from feeling my breasts against his chest as he pulls me closer and sucks my bottom lip until I’m delirious.
He’s got the devil’s own tongue.
I can barely kiss him back when he’s turning me inside out with slow, wet thrusts that leave my lips so tender.
So sensitive that when he nips at them with those sharp teeth, I gasp. My thighs shake as I fall against him with a moan.
There’s a dark, raspy laugh when he does it again, catching me with rough hands on my hips as my entire weight collapses against him.
“Did you come already, girl? All from a kiss?”
“No!” I gasp, then stop. “At least, I don’t think I did… What does it feel like?”
Sad.
But how do you describe an ocean sunset to the blind?
Does it feel like this wet sugary sensation inside me, clenching up tight, hot and molten and quaking between my thighs until my whole flesh simmers?
Does it feel like the way my whole body comes alive?
Every sensation stronger than before, stronger than ever, throbbing in my fingers and toes and nipples, and the heavy, full sensation in my breasts?
Micah’s eyes flash with awe as he stares at me.
“Have you never?” he asks softly.
Part of me wants to crawl away and die.
God, he’ll mock me for this.
He’ll laugh and tell me to take my little girl self somewhere else and leave him to find a real woman with experience. The kind of worldly woman he probably knew back in New York.
“Never,” I admit, lowering my eyes.
I’m expecting a snort.
A startled chuckle.
Pure derision.
Rejection, however polite.
What I don’t expect is the reverence in his voice as he sighs my name like a prayer and curses.
“Talia, fuck.”
Then he kisses me again.
This time, it’s different.