Kissing him was my favourite thing to do. The gentle brush of his warm lips against mine, the contrast of his cold lip ring when he kissed harder, the swipe of his tongue against my bottom lip, his hands resting on my hips and mine toying with the scruffy blonde hair at the nape of his neck. His kisses were perfect, sweet and needy, always. He looked so beautiful when I watched him lean in, his blue eyes lidded and his head dipped down to meet me. He was beautiful, and he was mine. Who knew a kiss would get us into so much trouble?All Rights Reserved
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