The second my palm touches her skin, she whimpers with need. My erection is painful against my zipper as she presses her body against mine. Our teeth clash. The kiss grows brutal. Within seconds, Lark has ripped through any restraint I thought I had. She kisses me with the kind of fevered desperation that makes me feel not just wanted. Or needed. It’s as though she craves me. She grips onto the back of my neck as though she’ll fall apart if she doesn’t hold on. When she sucks in a breath, she dives deeper, towing me into the dark with her. Every time I think I’ve gotten control of the kiss,
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