Instead, he clutches my jaw, squeezing it between his fingers. His lips hover inches away from mine as he breathes nicotine down my throat. Holy shit. That’s hot. And burning. I mean, the nicotine burns at the back of my throat. I cough, but he swallows the sound with a hard kiss. I feel like that helpless cigarette in his mouth. Tugged by his teeth and devoured by his lips. But he tastes like that cigarette. He tastes like me. If this is the last smoke he’ll have, then I’ll let him burn me.
