Before I Forget

Lust for Life

Yes, I am ashamed. And I'm pretty sure I'm going to Hell.

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From the moment his lips met hers, it was pure passion.

This was not a staged Hollywood kiss, this was the real deal. Cody's hands were on her body, pushing her against the wall, his hips were pressing against her core as he stood between her legs, his tongue nudged against her lips and she opened for him, letting that tongue enter her mouth in deep, gentle strokes.

Her hands were on his chest, pushing that leather jacket off his shoulders, and he broke the kiss just to brush the jacket off, letting it fall onto the floor, and then he was kissing her again with such intensity as if it was the only thing in the whole world that he wanted to do.

He looked like a boy but felt like a man. His hands were big and strong, his scent was all leather and tobacco, it went to Sky's blood like heroin making her weak in the knees. With a jolt that ran through her body like an electric shock, she realized that she wanted this thing, this thing that wasn't friendship but it wasn't love either, she wanted this thing, this moment, this night, she wanted Cody so that it took her breath away.

The taste of his kisses was spiced with alcohol and blood - copper and iron and something sweet, and that primitive taste went to Sky's head, making her high. Her impatient hands were pulling up his shirt to feel that tight abdomen, that lean chest, and he groaned in the kiss, let out a hiss when her hands found the large, silver buckle of his belt.

"No, wait–" he broke the kiss, his chest heaving with fast, shallow breaths. "Wait a sec—"

"What? Don't you want to—?"

"Are you—" he swallowed hard. "Are you sure? Just— how high are you?"

"Not that high," Sky replied, a bit sharply. "I know what I'm doing."

He rested his forehead against her brow, his fast, strangled breaths falling to her lips as his hands gripped her waist. His body pressed against hers, almost desperately. She could tell he wanted her, could already feel the hardness of his erection in those tight, black jeans, pushing against her core, and his hesitation was driving her mad.

She just wanted to forget, to let go of everything, to feel good, even for a short moment, and here was Cody with his beautiful face and his strong hands and his manly scent and Sky knew that he could give her that oblivion, and not just with the drugs.

Was it really too much to ask for?

"Please—" she begged, her lips touching his, her fingers still resting on that belt buckle. "Please, I really want it."

His throat bobbed, his hands on her waist were trembling, fingers digging into the softness of her curves, and every muscle in his jaw, in his neck, was tight and hard.

"You're gonna be the death of me," he groaned, and then he was kissing her again, her lips, her neck, his eager hands with their long fingers were ripping open the buttons of her shirt. Sky moaned when he eased her breasts out of the bra. His hands were so warm, always warm, never cold, and his lips—

Her fingers thread through the dark, silky strands of Cody's hair when he kissed her nipples, then sucked them, and she could only whisper harder, harder, please, I like it harder, and he obeyed, as if her wish was his command, sucking her breasts so that Sky was whining and whimpering under his touch.

And then he was on the floor on his knees, looking up at her through those thick, dark lashes. His eyes were endless, black ponds and his hands were under her short Ravenclaw skirt, caressing her thighs, finding her panties and pulling them down, slowly, slowly, so that she could still tell him no if she wanted to.