I danced among the coals, letting each flame lick my skin. "You are the eye of my storm." I whisper onto his lips, stoking the fire.
"You are my hurricane, tearing me apart." He moans, tasting like whiskey, pushing me against the wall, lips against my throat.
I can't breathe, my lungs no longer function as he trails kisses over my neck. "You take my breath away, you choke my throat with desire."
He kisses me like he's barely holding himself back. My tongue is overloaded with the taste of his mouth. My fingers tugging in his hair snap the restraints he'd buckled over himself, and he tosses me onto the bed, pouncing on to of me, covering my body with his own like he's sure of his prize. I chase his pauses away with the soft curves of my waist and thighs. Clothes fell off, or were thrown across the room, and it was skin against skin, and then there was nothing between us at all. He tastes like whiskey, and my lungs are full of nicotine. This felt right, him and I.
Oh, honey. You are the late night mistake I want to make. I want my lips bruised by yours. Your fingertips light fires under my skin and leave them to smolder. I'm addicted to the taste you leave in my mind. The books you read, the adventures you take me on, the jokes you make and the stories you tell.
"Oh, babe, we'd better stop before we make my parents' mistake.... Just a little longer, love....oh, do that again."
"What the flying blue fuck happened, sweetheart? Why do we taste like alcohol, why are you naked and grinning like the proverbial Cheshire Cat? Oh, you bastard. Yes, I'm on the pill, but you better have used protection. Yes, I enjoyed it. Just wish I hadn't been drunk. No, Horndog, we have class. I don't care, go take a cold shower and get dressed."
