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I can still taste him on my lips. The thick creamy ambrosia of his essence.
The first time I saw him I was not sure of him but one look at those kissable lips and a voice that is so sensual and hot that it could melt butter, all while being sexy and erotic.
He walks with confidence, without hesitation, straight into my heart, my arms opens wide. He took my breath away and he still hasn't lost his touch.
The firs thing I wanted to tell him was to kiss me. All the months that we were apart I dreamt of his kisses. His mouth will be hot, hard and possessive. I wanted it to be all I ever dreamed of. Perfect heat. To devour me, kissing me as though he could not get enough of me, smoldering passion.
I whisper his name into the silken heat of his mouth, my fingers caress his short hair, becoming every bit as possessive as he his.
His hand close over my breast, and flames lick my skin, sear my belly. His mouth trail little kisses to my throat. His tongue lick at the pulse point on my neck, while his palm cups my breast and his thumb stroke my nipple into hard, aching peaks.
The pleasure and excitement.
How long have I dreamed of him?
Longed for his touch?
From the first moment I heard his voice, I knew he would be a perfect lover.
His mouth roams lower, his tongue replacing his thumb, sucking my nipple, until my hands grip his shoulders in reaction. His mouth is hot and wild, suckling strong as I beg him for more.
I can hear my own moans, a soft whisper of need that spread from my aching breasts, to deep inside my body, heating my blood. I feel the hunger and need. I am afraid.
I am restless and edgy, my body aches for relief. I feel his teeth on my nipple, producing hot liquid desire that moves between my thighs. My muscles clench.
Then comes the white-hot lightning, a flash of pain that gives way to sheer pleasure.
Now I want the taste of him in my mouth as I moan his name.