" His kiss was immediate, ruthless, frantic, greedy.
Our lips pressed against each other’s, shaping, nipping, lapping.
His lips didn’t ask for permission for me to open, he demanded, and I gave, using both hands to shape the sides of his head in case he had the crazy idea of stopping.
The kiss was messy, wet and ravenous.
About the best kiss I’d ever had, making me feel like I’d only ever want his mouth and taste again for the rest of my life.
His tongue drove me fucking crazy in a smooth, slick glide over mine until the only emotion I could feel thumping through my toffee-like veins was starved hunger. "

― V. Theia , Manhattan Bet (From Manhattan #2)