Cazaril snaked his arm around Betriz’s waist and pulled her, ruthlessly and not at all shyly, down upon his lap. She squeaked in surprise. “Lips, eh?” he murmured, and fastened his to hers. Pausing for breath some time later, she pulled her head back and happily rubbed her chin, then his. “And now your kisses do not make me itch!”
Caz pulls Beatriz down for a kiss
Now your kisses don't scratch
