My lips were numb and I could barely breathe. Whenever we kissed, I felt intoxicated. I wanted more. I needed more.
His kiss sucked the air directly from my lungs. When our lips parted ways, he bit down until tears welled in my eyes. His kiss felt like love so I bit him back. I was ready for love.
Then he’d trail his lips from my full bottom lip to my chin and from my chin to my neck. My pussy ached in a literal sense. My inner walls contracted and salivated.
His fingers danced to the meeting of my thighs and skipped around my clit. He kissed me again. Tiny bubbles filled my airway. My breaths would become shallow. My mind would race until I was dizzy.
This unmistakable lust had eluded me until this moment. A stolen moment.
A single stolen moment would become two and then three until each stolen moment was declared the last of its kind.
image credit: stefan kuhn