Chapter 16

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It started as a lazy graze of his lips against my unsuspecting mouth.

His lips were soft but firm, his sharp intake of breath leaving me weak and flustered where I sat. His grip tightened in my hair, raising delicious goose bumps down my back as he pulled away only enough for his raven orbs to meet my shocked amber ones; his now turned black with a swirling lust that I felt echoed in mine.

Wha–! What just– Did we just–!

My thought process was completely obliterated as he led me in again, and his lips possessed mine.

This time he was slow as he worked against me. Slow and painful, like the sensation of biting into freezing ice-cream; enjoying both the taste and the nerve pain that came with it. He devoured me, as though I was the first meal, the first scrap of food he had tasted in a week. Like I was the most delicious, salacious torture, and his darkest sin.

Rippling shivers travelled the length of my body across my skin like firecrackers, sparking in places that were visible to him and places that weren't. Places I wanted him to see and places he could never see.

My inexperienced mouth was quickly trained into action by his practiced one, my lips melting into his as though they were perfect waves moving into each other before they peaked and crashed together.

He kept control as my mind scattered in all directions, losing my marbles completely. I was self-conscious at the way my mouth was watering for him, displaying my want for him. My want for his taste and his mouth, everywhere and anywhere. But as we found our rhythm, and as our mouths turned hungry, my insecurities were forgotten. His kisses became bites and my breaths became short as he skilfully dipped his tongue into my inviting mouth. I took him in like he belonged there, as though I was made to feel him.

To feel him inside me.

He tore at my hair with one hand while the other traced its way behind to grip my lower back, forcing our fronts to meld together. My hands had found his neck, forcing him further into me, pressing my want and need for him to be closer. To give me more.

My nipples were excruciatingly hard as they rubbed against him, exposing me through the thin layer of fabric and the only thing between our naked chests.

Oh God...

He let out a groan and I swore I was almost at the edge of an unknown cliff, my lower region throbbing with a glorious ache. Pushing closer, closer, until we were touching everywhere, I allowed my tongue to dance with his, tickling him softly before dipping further in and tasting him back.

Tasting Manning.

Manning. The man I hated. The man I didn't hate. The man I wish I hated more. The man I wanted more.

It never seemed to matter until now how little Trent had taught me during our time together. Sure, we dated long enough to have many, many make-out sessions, but suffice it to say, nothing he showed me was worth repeating. Trent didn't teach my mouth to melt against his. Trent didn't make my body crave his just by being next to him, or by a single, heat filled glance. Trent never made me surrender myself to him.

No.

The person that made me feel all of those things and more was right in front of me, taking his pleasure as much as he was giving me mine. He was as thirsty as I was, as parched as I was, and I shuddered to think that in this moment, he wanted me.

Me.

I wasn't anything special. There were girls out there ten times more gorgeous than I'd ever be. Girls tinier than me that looked cute on every man's arm and made every man feel masculine and impressive. Girls that were pliable, agreeable, submissive to every demand.

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