ROSE His kisses were long, gentle and strong, like he wanted the moment to last. As soon as one ended, the next one started. He couldn’t stop. He held my face perfectly to keep going—and it was my hands slipping under his shirt, sliding up and down his back, feeling all the warm flesh and grooves like I was reading Braille. We were leading each other on differently but with the same passion. And then I was placed on something hard, my chest brushing his, which annoyed me—I want to rub my breasts against his hard chest. I want to make my nipples hard with his warmth and cover myself with him, graze my skin against his, to feel his heat, its comfort, to wrap them around me and hug it close. To make it mine. I nudged him to stop and his lips tore away with a loud reluctant smack, and he stared at me as my fingers hastily unbuttoned my blouse. His were already undone. When, I can’t be sure. Did he do it, or was it me, I can’t remember. All I could think of now was to get naked and
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