"Too short", he growled, as he looked down at her face, startling green eyes staring back up at him. What was it about this incorrigible girl?
He was forced to use all his strength to be gentle as he placed his hands firmly around her soft waist and lifted her onto the vanity unit, the mirror behind her illuminating on her long, red hair like a siren warning him of the stormy dangers ahead. She hadn't uttered a word for several minutes which was both disarming and unexpected. She always had something to say, especially to him, and mostly filled with profanity and detestation. That mouth; that beautiful fucking smart mouth. He pushed her legs open and stepped closer. Her breathe hitched, the only sign so far that she was as affected by him as he was of her. There was that one freckle, just above her plump lips, that drove him crazy and he bent slightly to lick it before his need took over and his tongue traced her bottom lip. She tasted like fruity cider, strawberries and limes, and he wanted more. Her fingers gripped his forearms as his hands roamed her body, restricted by the Stone Roses t-shirt that stretched tightly round her tits and had caused an involuntary hard-on on too many occasions. Her head tilted back ever so slightly, her glossy mane swaying, distracting him from her lips. His hands immediately reached round and pulled her hair, her head tilting back even further, as he forcefully claimed her mouth, groaning as she moaned, tasting apple orchards and feisty sex. *** She couldn't get enough of him. He tasted like scotch and fire and a multitude of sins. His hands had moved back to her waist but she wanted them on her breasts, kneeding and pulling on her nipples. Too many clothes. Fuck, she needed to see him naked. Her hands were in his hair and his tongue was in her mouth and, by god, it all felt so right. He pulled his head back and cupped her face, her disappointment obvious as she scowled at the removal of his lips from hers. But he looked at her with such a fervent hunger that she knew he hadn't finished with her just yet. A quick flick of her erect nipples and his hands were back on her waist, gently lifting her and placing her back on her unsteady feet. His large hand grabbed her small one and he turned towards the door, pulling her alongside him. "I'm not fucking you in the pub toilets. You're coming home with me."
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AuthorThe tornado of roses, with all the chaos and less of the beauty.. Archives
December 2017
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