I might regret this, but I lean forward and whisper in his ear, "But I thought you licked me. I'm yours, remember?" He shakes his head. “You aren’t mine until we kiss.” And we do. He crushes his lips to mine, and I can’t say why I do it, but I give in. I kiss him back, and it’s a fierce kiss, a duel almost. Our tongues war, trying to be in each other’s mouths, and a shot of pleasure heads straight to my core. I might moan, and it’s so hard to keep my hands by my side, to not reach up and grab his shoulders or to run my fingers through his hair. What the hell is wrong with me?
