Page 47 of Never Have I Ever
When she admitted that she had never been kissed before, I wanted nothing more than to teach her. To feel her lips on mine, messy and all, and teach her everything. But even though she’s never been kissed before, it isn’t messy.
It’s also not as hot as I would prefer. I want the heat with her, the type of kiss where your brain is muddled up, consumed by lust and need, and you can’t think. The feeling so overwhelming that you can’t even control yourself.
No, this kiss is soft and delicate, just like my angel. She brushes her lips over mine so softly that we’re barely kissing. Her mouth is closed, and I need her closer. I need more. My tongue darts out and licks her bottom lip, beckoning for her to open, but she doesn’t. She continues kissing me back, gentle and light. I’m none of those things, and I need to deepen this kiss. I want everything from her. I want it all.
I brush my tongue over her bottom lip again, twice, three times, until she gasps for air, and I take that as my chance. I fit my tongue inside her mouth, and she yelps when she feels it, but she doesn’t stop. She meets me halfway, letting me taste her, letting her tongue dance with mine. She moans into my mouth, a sound so sweet I’m debating on how I can give her everything I own.
I want to hear that from her again. Fuck, Ineedto. My teeth gently graze her bottom lip before I soothe it with the lick of my tongue. She moans again. God. I groan, tipping her head back to deepen the kiss.
Jesus, this girl is going to be the death of me. Everything she does, every sound she makes, I need more of. She reaches up, grabs my hair, and pulls it back. I smile against her lips. She’s eager for me. And I eat it up.
I leave her mouth, kissing, licking, nibbling down her chin, her jaw until I reach her neck. She tastes like candy everywhere. I never want to stop this. Ever.
“Oh, god,” she gasps when I nibble her neck, kissing every inch of her skin. Her breathing is shallow and fast; her chest is rising up and down.
Which makes my eyes drift to her chest. She’s wearing a pink corset dress with silk ribbons for straps. Her breasts taunting me in the tight dress, making me drool at the sight of her. She looks down at me, her lips parted in shock, breathing so hard.
I kiss her shoulder, lick it, kiss it again, and then fit the silk straps between my teeth, pulling it down until the bow unravels. I gaze up, and Rosalie closes her eyes, breathing even harder. I can’t help but grin when I look at her. God she’s so pretty it hurts. Physically hurts me to look at her.
I make my way to her other shoulder, leaving soft kisses in my path. I press an open mouth kissed where the silk ends. My fingers reach up, brushing against her skin and I pull the bow with my hands, unraveling it like she’s my very own present. Happy fucking birthday to me.
She releases a deep breath and then a soft, gentle moan, the sound traveling straight to my cock. But I ignore the needy fucker and focus on the beautiful angel in front of me.
I need those lips back on mine badly, and I waste no time, lifting my head and kissing her, deep and hot like I want, like I know she wants, but she’s too afraid to take it. Rosalie wraps her arms around my neck, weaving her fingers in my hair and gripping it in her fist, pushing me into her.
My hand is clutching her face, but I drift my hand, tucking her hair behind her ear. I bring my fingers lower to her collarbone and feel the supple skin there marked by my teeth. She whimpers. Christ, I want my mouth all over her, but not here. Not on a bench in the middle of the woods.
When I taste her, I’m going to need my time with her. I want to learn her body, what makes her writhe with pleasure, what makes her whimper and moan out of control until she’s shaking underneath me.
I like teasing her, waiting for her to beg me for it. But she doesn’t; she just takes whatever I’m willing to give her. Her breathing is erratic, and her eyes are still closed. I don't want her eyes closed. I want to look into those baby blues as she reaches pleasure.
“Oh god,” she whimpers again. “Why… what’s happening?”
I lift my head, seeing her eyebrows drawn as if she were in pain. “What do you mean?” I grab her chin in my hand, making her head drop to look at me, but her eyes are still closed.
“I don’t… I feel… what is this?” She gasps, shaking her head.
“You mean turned on?” I ask her because, by the way she’s acting, it’s like she’s never been horny before.
She nods ecstatically. “Yes. I think…” She squeezes her legs together, making me curse silently. I can only imagine how wet she is. “I’m turned on,” she says as if she’s just discovered that.
I grip her thigh, lifting the fabric of her dress as I slide my hand up. “Fuck.” I groan, leaving a hard, hot peck on her lips.
“Touch me,” she breathes out. She places her hand on top of mine on her thigh and lifts it higher. She spreads her legs slightly to make room for me, and I take that as my invitation.
I cup her pussy over her panties, feeling the material drenched. The soft cotton material can’t handle how turned on this girl is right now, and I relish the feeling that I made her like this.
She bucks her hips against my hand, and I focus on her face. She’s flushed with arousal, and her eyes are still closed like she wants to heighten the feeling. I let my fingers drift up to find her clit over her panties. I press my finger against it, hearing her breathing stop.
I don’t rub it or pull the fabric aside. Maybe I just like teasing her, or maybe I’m a secret masochist who likes withholding my own pleasure because all I want to do right now is feel how wet she is under her underwear and make her hum from desire, but I remain still.
“Tell me what you want, Rosie,” I husk out. “What do you do when you touch yourself?” I ask, smoothing my finger up and down the wet cotton. I need to know how to bring her there. Since she hasn’t been kissed, I can pretty much guess that she hasn’t been touched either.
Her eyes snap open, and she clears her throat. “I… I haven’t…”
I look up, seeing her face flushed and her eyes brimmed with confusion. My hand stills. Is she saying…? “You’ve never touched yourself?”
She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth and shakes her head. “No,” she says, looking down where my hand disappears under her dress. “Girls don’t do that.”
