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“There was nothing glamorous about the kiss. It was breathy and sloppy and noisy, more passion than finesse, but it was like a hit of speed tripping through his blood, rippling pleasure through his thighs and buttocks and belly, their heads twisting greedily in time to the wild buck of his hips.” — Amy Andrews
There was nothing glamorous about the kiss. It was breathy and sloppy and noisy, more passion than finesse, but it was like a hit of speed tripping
through his blood, rippling pleasure through his thighs and buttocks and belly, their heads twisting greedily in time to the wild buck of his hips.