Imogen Grey

I couldn't stop myself from pulling her close to me and kissing her lips. At first, it was a delicate butterfly of a kiss, so faint, like a whisper. But, oh, it grew so much more. Kissing her hungrily, my hands roamed all over her body. I wanted to kiss her lips, trace the curves, the lines and twists they hid. I wanted to caress her body, cover with me hands every inch of her skin, from head to toes, run my fingertips over her, and hear the melody of her laughter, and the symphony of her moans. "More," I growled silently still kissing her bottom lip. "Give me more." I kept kissing her, over and over again, each time harder than the last. The more love I give her, the more I have bursting inside me.