10
" I’ve never awaited a kiss more in my whole life.
“It won’t hurt, I promise.” He husks throatily, lowering his head, blocking out the sun so all I see are twin blues and my own lust mirrored back in them.
I’m right. It’s a kiss like no other I’ve had before.
He doesn’t plunder, not at first.
His lips edge across mine—first the top, then the bottom, coaxing me to open. He presses lightly, teasing me almost into whimpering. Of course I want more, I’m out of my flipping mind wanting the kiss, so I drag at his shirt, as if to tell him to get on with it already and that’s when his mouth opens, and my brain switches off.
His mouth lays waste to mine in a not-so-surprising and yet all arousing eating kiss that feels as though he’s wolfing me down from the inside with each measured flick of his tongue. His taste floods through me, not a corner of my body is left out of the pleasure soaking out of Theo and into me.
He kisses like I’ve always wanted to be kissed by a man. "
― V. Theia , Manhattan Storm (From Manhattan #3)
15
" She gasps, tipping her chin back, studying me. What I’m not seeing is a get the fuck off me right now red light and it’s impossible to ask me to wait a second longer to taste her, not with the hollow rush of blood through my ears.
“Have to kiss you, Bexley.”
Another little sexy gasp and her pupils blow out to pure black. And then like it’s the biggest imposition to her, she huffs, chewing her lip again and presents her mouth. “Fine, get it over with.”
Another time I will joke about how she’s taking one for the team or something equally lame like that, but I’m a frantic man and I’ve just been given the keys to heaven again. No way am I pumping the breaks on my lust to say some damn joke.
My lips take hers; I try to go gentle, I really do, but there’s something so drugging about Bexley that pulls me in. Almost like she has full control over my body, because the kiss becomes feral in seconds. "
― V. Theia , Manhattan Storm (From Manhattan #3)
16
" Beautiful,” his voice low and husky, his nose knocks mine, running up and down the side. “I not only want it, I want you to want it, too. To crave my kiss, to ache for the taste of me coating your lips. I don’t want you throwing me a bone because it’s the thing to do on dates.” When his nose travels along mine this time I hold my breath, my fingers grapple on the front of his shirt as I listen to his seductive words coming out of that perfect, kissable mouth. The same mouth I list forward towards. “I would die for another kiss, Bexley, but I want you obsessed and consumed for it, too. To know I’m the only thing you can think about. "
― V. Theia , Manhattan Storm (From Manhattan #3)
