suddenly released the last remnants of his inhibitions and hers. Then he drew away.
***
Though the available light was low, Della could see the flex of sinews in his strong neck and see his eyelids grow heavy with desire. In the room’s muted glow, the lines in his face were set in relief from cheek to jawbone. His hands freely roamed her body, both coming up to caress her beasts. This wasn’t like the secret sex she had before. He touched her in ways she touched herself when alone. And he was a tough guy . She could tell. She liked it. She could feel the power radiating from him as it dragged at her breathing. Heat unfurled deep at her core and radiated through her pelvis to the bone.
“You like that?” he asked with a sly smile.
What had given her away? The ways she panted or the flutter of her lashes. She wasn’t sure. Whatever it was ignited a fierce storm of sensations between her thighs. “Un huh…”
“You do. Don’t you?”
He stroked her bottom, hips, and thighs. It was giving her fever.
“That kiss. I’m not sure it’s the best we can do,” he said.
Her eyes flipped opened. She looked at him, really looked at him.
He was beautiful to be a man-boy. His brows weren’t bushy like Tiny’s, and his skin wasn’t pale and pasty like most white boys she’d seen. It was golden smooth over a strong jaw. But there was a hint of rebel in his stance. He didn’t walk the line like most townie white men she knew. The line of predictable meanness and crude superiority made her want to take them for every penny shoved down in their dirt filled pockets. He chose to be different. But why ? What was his angle? She’d let him stick it in for the fin and be done. Except these touches, these kisses. Where did it all lead?
He slipped a hand under her wet tangles, cupping her nape. She contemplated his mouth. “I knew I could’ve done better,” she breathed.
"Who says I wanted too?”
“I say you do.” He bought his lips down on hers. It was no tepid kiss. It was more like a searing demand, his lips confident and assured.
Her heart surged at the lazy dance his tongue gave when it swept over hers. The forbidden act was the most deliciously sinful one she’d ever indulged in. Della never considered kissing a man, and none ever considered kissing her. Her mouth thirsted for more. She opened her eyes to stare at him through the kiss, trying to understand his mastery. But the feeling of feminine submission that his tongue play drove through her body, weakened her muscles, clouded her thought, and whispered in her head to let go. So she did. Stepping toward him instead of back, she grew bold in her unexplained desires, allowing his darting tongue to love hers.
Aroused, she gave herself up to its sizzling delights. Those delights threaded from her head to the bottom of her feet. She felt anew, and at her very center moisture gathered between her legs as her body temperature rose. His hands went firm to her waist. His fingers dug deep. He drew her to him.
Della’s hands flew up to his shoulders and her mouth opened wider. Was he smiling as she visibly trembled? Yes, he was. He deepened the kiss, dissolving her objections. This she allowed. She liked kissing, especially like this. This kind of kiss was what she’d catch Tiny and Joyce doing when they thought she was asleep on Joyce’s floor as a young’un.
This was a love kiss, from a strange moonshine running man-boy. She wanted more. Her thoughts became a scrambled mess. I want him to touch it. I hope he touches it. I need to feel his hands and tongue on it. Her mind repeated the silent wish over and over. So she touched him instead. He didn’t even flinch at her action. But her hand froze in surprise at his firm hardness. Intimidated, she dropped it away.
Silvio walked her back to the cot she always laid on alone. But he never broke the kiss. He furthered the seduction with his mouth, lips, tongue, and tiny bites too. Della gasped deep breaths in
***
Though the available light was low, Della could see the flex of sinews in his strong neck and see his eyelids grow heavy with desire. In the room’s muted glow, the lines in his face were set in relief from cheek to jawbone. His hands freely roamed her body, both coming up to caress her beasts. This wasn’t like the secret sex she had before. He touched her in ways she touched herself when alone. And he was a tough guy . She could tell. She liked it. She could feel the power radiating from him as it dragged at her breathing. Heat unfurled deep at her core and radiated through her pelvis to the bone.
“You like that?” he asked with a sly smile.
What had given her away? The ways she panted or the flutter of her lashes. She wasn’t sure. Whatever it was ignited a fierce storm of sensations between her thighs. “Un huh…”
“You do. Don’t you?”
He stroked her bottom, hips, and thighs. It was giving her fever.
“That kiss. I’m not sure it’s the best we can do,” he said.
Her eyes flipped opened. She looked at him, really looked at him.
He was beautiful to be a man-boy. His brows weren’t bushy like Tiny’s, and his skin wasn’t pale and pasty like most white boys she’d seen. It was golden smooth over a strong jaw. But there was a hint of rebel in his stance. He didn’t walk the line like most townie white men she knew. The line of predictable meanness and crude superiority made her want to take them for every penny shoved down in their dirt filled pockets. He chose to be different. But why ? What was his angle? She’d let him stick it in for the fin and be done. Except these touches, these kisses. Where did it all lead?
He slipped a hand under her wet tangles, cupping her nape. She contemplated his mouth. “I knew I could’ve done better,” she breathed.
"Who says I wanted too?”
“I say you do.” He bought his lips down on hers. It was no tepid kiss. It was more like a searing demand, his lips confident and assured.
Her heart surged at the lazy dance his tongue gave when it swept over hers. The forbidden act was the most deliciously sinful one she’d ever indulged in. Della never considered kissing a man, and none ever considered kissing her. Her mouth thirsted for more. She opened her eyes to stare at him through the kiss, trying to understand his mastery. But the feeling of feminine submission that his tongue play drove through her body, weakened her muscles, clouded her thought, and whispered in her head to let go. So she did. Stepping toward him instead of back, she grew bold in her unexplained desires, allowing his darting tongue to love hers.
Aroused, she gave herself up to its sizzling delights. Those delights threaded from her head to the bottom of her feet. She felt anew, and at her very center moisture gathered between her legs as her body temperature rose. His hands went firm to her waist. His fingers dug deep. He drew her to him.
Della’s hands flew up to his shoulders and her mouth opened wider. Was he smiling as she visibly trembled? Yes, he was. He deepened the kiss, dissolving her objections. This she allowed. She liked kissing, especially like this. This kind of kiss was what she’d catch Tiny and Joyce doing when they thought she was asleep on Joyce’s floor as a young’un.
This was a love kiss, from a strange moonshine running man-boy. She wanted more. Her thoughts became a scrambled mess. I want him to touch it. I hope he touches it. I need to feel his hands and tongue on it. Her mind repeated the silent wish over and over. So she touched him instead. He didn’t even flinch at her action. But her hand froze in surprise at his firm hardness. Intimidated, she dropped it away.
Silvio walked her back to the cot she always laid on alone. But he never broke the kiss. He furthered the seduction with his mouth, lips, tongue, and tiny bites too. Della gasped deep breaths in
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