⚠️ Warning: ⚠️
This chapter includes sexual content. Reader discretion is highly advised.

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⌞M I N D E L Y N⌝
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⌞♥⌝    Okay, I know those of you reading this want the steamy details, but hear me out for a second.

Picture the cells in your body as little people. The red blood cells are the hardworking delivery workers who go around distributing nutrients or returning waste products; the white blood cells are the cops who keep everything in order and peaceful from any violent viral thugs or infectious bacterial criminals; and your normal and specialized cells (depending on the organ) do their regular shifts and just try to make ends meet.

It's all calm, cozy, and functional in this body until the day their human decides to go to a haunted house. That is when their eye catches sight of something hair-raising, and their ears hear something that makes their gut churn.

In the chambers of your brain, the Commander of the Fearful Amygdala Center slams on the red panic button. All the sirens in the body go off, and the fight-or-flight response is in full effect.

Soldiers and messengers from the Adrenaline Squad and troopers of the nervous system disperse to different regions of the body in high-speed vessels. The terrified public goes from a composed calm to a frenzied rush to reach the brain, arms, and legs as the deployed army barks orders, sirens scream, and loud telecommunications blare instructions to safety zones.

The overworked lungs make every effort to supply everyone with as much oxygen as possible for the chaotic atmosphere, and the heart pumps for its dear life to deal with the crazy traffic and to keep up with demand. In the background, the brain is on high alert for what to do with the given situation. Standing in the headquarters of the organ is the general who has one of three buttons to decide the human's fate: flight, fight, or freeze.

The body, though beautifully complex and well structured, can be an absolute shitshow if it wants to. Now that I've shared with you this beautiful analogy. Imagine this shit in a person with an anxiety disorder. With excessive overthinking and constant worry, they have the unwelcome ability to trigger this bodily response at any damn time.

The overly anxious person is me. And right then, my general decided to hit the freeze button. I was stuck there, in complete shock, and not because of his presence, but because I dropped a massive kink bomb on a total stranger on the first night.

'Yes, but only if you choke me a little' —Jesus Christ! Mindelyn Sei Suberson! What the hell were you thinking?

No, scratch that. I wasn't thinking at all. Never have I ever dropped one of my kinks on the first night. That was taboo in my book since they ranged from cute, fluffy stuff to extreme sports. He almost certainly thought I was a BDSM enthusiast, but that wouldn't be too far off. I classified myself as experimental.

Anyway, it happened. Being the raunchy little bitch that I was, there was no turning back now. If I died because of this, it was my fault. I dug my own grave and may as well have just laid in it while being shagged like a slut.

With his firm and hunky body pressed against my petite and plump frame, the rich aroma of his cologne made its presence known. The strong musk scent, with hints of spicy black pepper and earthy sweet patchouli, took me back to the lush forests of the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. A sense of relaxation and security washed over me while also fueling the raging sensual fire within.

His long fingers were already snug around my neck as his grip tightened on my command. It was firm enough to tickle my gag reflex and cause me to gasp but not to put me in danger of asphyxiation.

A good population of the human race would have found my current position uncomfortable, humorlessly abhorrent, and triggering. However, this made me feel alive, and I cherished every second.

Another muscular, veiny hand of his that had been caressing my chest and teasingly penetrating my cleavage slipped into the low-cut collar of my dress and ventured to my breasts. Alternating between my twins, he fondled them with pulsating squeezes while his fingers massaged my areolae. With the occasional twist, both my nipples hardened under his fierce touching.

To satiate his primal urge, he released my neck and played with both of my girls in his warm hands. Squishing his new favorite stress balls, they inflated from the intense blood rush.

My dress's thin, diaphanous lace was hardly a barrier. So, I could feel everything.

With my ass pinned to his impressive junk, I felt the massive bulge in his pants grow larger with each passing second. That sensation, combined with his actions, made me tremble from overstimulation. In times like this, my hypersensitivity was both a wonderful gift and a terrible curse.

"Chess, wait!" I groaned, grabbing his thick wrists.

Despite my body craving more of his electrifying touches and wanting him to go further, I genuinely needed to go to the bathroom and take a piss. However, I was too scared of ruining the moment to speak up, so I shut my mouth and put my bladder's complaint on hold.

His mouth had found its way to one of my ears and had started grazing its helix. From there, he nibbled my earlobe and, along with his hot, heavy breaths, overwhelmed my senses.

A spine-tingling, deep whisper came from him as he broke the silence. "What is it, Miss Suberson? I'm all ears."

Before I could mutter a thing, his muscular arms that had slipped under my armpits when he hugged me earlier tightened themselves around my body, and, using Herculean strength, the young man lifted me until he had me standing on my tippy toes. This surprised me because I knew very well how heavy I was from the last dreadful visit to my bathroom scale. Normally, being in a stance like this for a prolonged time would be painful. However, the reality was that I was doing the bare minimum as he continued to hold up my whole body on his own.

His hunger for me led to him planting a trail of ardent kisses on the nape of my neck. That transported me to a euphoric world of fervid lust, and he was the center of it. Miraculously, my urge to pee disappeared and a new level of libido was unlocked.

As the fervency in his kisses grew, one of my hands reached out and guided his beautiful head to my collarbone. It started with kissing but quickly evolved to fervid sucking and nibbling. I was itching for him to etch a hickey on my burning skin, but his subtle teasing never evolved.

The fuck?

From the very first time he laid eyes on me to this heated moment, I could tell the man was hesitant and cautious in his approach, which made no sense to me. I had given him several suggestive hints, like holding his hand and exchanging flirtatious remarks. I had pulled him to my bedroom, for heaven's sake!

What was a bigger 'HEY, FUCK ME LIKE CRAZY!' sign than that? Yet, it was as though he was scared of hurting me or something.

I came to South Africa to be devoured by a beast who would leave me dying for more, not someone who would baby me. If I wanted peace, I would've crawled back to my blanket burrito and chugged away some McDonald's nuggets in the comfort of my bed.

Intertwined with my growing arousal, impatience, and testiness made me grunt, "Dammit, Chess! Do I look like a rare Chinese tea set to you? I can take pain like a champ! So if you're going to suck, do it like you mean it!"

His body froze right away. His heavenly grey eyes narrowed to a squint and watched me intently for a few seconds before closing as if recovering from the shock of my sudden outburst. Mr. Nel sighed and said, "Oh, Mindy. It's a real shame."

I gulped, and my hushed anxiety slammed through the doors of my brain and invaded my body's systems.

Had I been too harsh? Too demanding, perhaps? Shit. Shit. Sh--

Interrupting my frantic thoughts, a small husky chuckle escaped his mouth, and when his eyes fluttered open, a dangerously intense sexual desire radiated from them as he broke out into a paralyzing smirk. He growled, "You should have spoken up sooner."

It was like I had unlocked a vampirish urge in him as he bit down on the flesh just above my collarbone. It wasn't enough to draw blood. Instead, it emanated a slight, sharp pain that made me faintly whimper. With a lick, he pecked the red area before moving on to an untouched area to suck on. The man's mouth was a powerful suction pump as he did his thing, and I pressed my lips tightly, suppressing a mewl.

Still feeling me up, I allowed him to suck the life out of me for a bit longer before gently grabbing his chin and leading his pink, plump lips to my coffee ones. When they were close enough, I gave him a soft, sweet peck to invite him in. His lips were so full and tender that, after one appetizing sample, I wanted the whole fucken menu. But I held back in the hopes that he'd get the hint.

Oddly, the message was delayed because he was just watching me with an emotion in his eyes that I couldn't make out. It was not unwelcoming or unimpressed. It appeared to be more neutral and focused. If I had to guess, he was deep in thought.

But why?

Regardless, I encouraged him with a few more flirtatious pecks and a small bite and tug of his bottom lip. This time, his response was to tease me by brushing his lips and hot breath over mine. As he did so, a faint murmur of lustful desperation escaped my mouth.

Dammit, Chester Nel! Just kiss me back already!

The craving was agonizing. I just wanted him to enter already.

He refused to reciprocate my desire. The frustration was so intense that I wanted to punch him in the face, but his magic touch and my burning horniness made me think otherwise.

It was as if he had read my mind when he snickered, "Someone wants me pretty badly, but I am afraid you'll have to earn it."

Earn it? Did I have to sell my soul to him or something? Wasn't my body enough?

I wasn't in the mood for his crash course on Mindfuckery 101. My pussy was throbbing, and since he did not obey its order, my brain soured my mood and left me relatively waspish. With a roll of my eyes, I didn't hesitate to spit, "Fuck you."

"Oh, please do," he said with a flirty wink before his head nuzzled against my neck.

It wasn't that I didn't like him touching me. I wanted to be glued to him forever. However, his stinginess and mind games were exhausting, and after my long trip, I wasn't up for them. Any other day, maybe. However, today I was jet-lagged and pettish and wanted to make out and fuck.

My trepidation of ruining the moment was overtaken by vexation, so I announced, "Whatever. I need to take a piss anyway."

"Sure, just don't keep me waiting for too long, or else I'll come to find you," warned Chess. His thick Afrikaner accent made him enunciate each word with such clarity and suggestiveness that it got me all hot and bothered for a brief moment.

This man was going to drive me crazy. However, I had no idea just how much until later.

Giving my twins their last squeeze for a while, he left a long kiss on my blazing cheek before carefully putting me down and unwrapping himself from me. Free from his monstrous embrace, I strutted to the bathroom. Once there, I pulled down my underwear and relieved myself.

This may be too much information, but I always checked the toilet paper, especially after I wiped down there, in fear of an unexpected return of the infamous Dr. Flo or an unusual color or smell of my discharge. Honestly, all girls do this; at least I hope so.

Anyway, I wasn't expecting anything other than the typical drop or two of transparent stickiness that a pantyliner traps. Instead, I found a plethora of watery and slightly viscid milky whiteness. However, that wasn't the shock factor. It was how much liquid there was that made me freeze.

My coochie normally gave me a small dribble, not a freaking lake. Just by touching me, this man turned it into an open faucet. I mean, I knew he excited me, but this was ridiculous. I was mind-blown.

Being turned on is good, right? He's doing what I requested, though. So, I'm a little wetter than usual, what's so bad about it? It just means he can fulfill my needs.

Plus, I used to sleep around all the time in my college days, and not once did I ever think twice about it when I'd leave the sucker snoring. Some casual sex has never worried me before, so why would it then?

Even after my very persuasive internal dialogue, I harbored very mixed emotions about this. This could either be a wondrous blessing that would help me forget my troubles or a ruthless disaster ready to send my already troubled world into an abyss of turmoil.

Or maybe I'm overthinking things again. Yeah, that's it.

I flushed down everything, along with my doubt. I was washing my hands by the sink when my reflection caught my attention.

My cheap mascara was smudged all over my eyelid. It probably happened when I started crying, but that didn't excuse the obvious fact that I looked like a damn raccoon. On top of that, my once-gelled-down baby hairs were all over the place and flaky.

His attraction to me was a mystery because all I saw was a hot mess. Then again, men slept with anything that had an opening — inanimate, dead, or alive — and I knew that information from spending too much time on the dark side of the web.

"I'm going to take a shower," I decided aloud. It would help since the smoldering heat in this city made me sweat like a cow in a slaughterhouse, and since Mr. Nel had his mind games and massive ego for company, he could wait. Switching on the shower to allow it to reach optimal temperature, I used a makeup remover to wipe the mess off my face before washing it at the basin.

Using a towel to pat the wetness off my face, I caught a glimpse of the steam coming from the glass structure. That was my cue to get out of my dress. I carefully removed the gold jewelry, placing it on a nearby marbled counter.

Blake had gifted me the set a few months back as a graduation gift, and since it was a present from one of the two people who loved me in this universe, I cherished it with my whole heart. I stared at the set for a few more seconds, then got on with the undressing.

I had lifted my dress's skirt to my waist and was about to remove this stringy crimson thong that had been viciously digging into my ass all day long when his deep, alluring voice rendered me motionless.

"Loving the view, sweetheart."

As I stood there with my exposed backside facing him, blood drained from my face. However, as soon as it left, the blood rushed back, blazing hot, and turned me into a tomato. Instinctively, I yanked my dress down and cursed under my breath for a brief moment. I hadn't realized just how close he was until I turned to face him and met his chest.

It stunned me because he was further back when he made himself known. I would've noticed a six-foot-plus man in there. Had he tiptoed in or something? Things weren't adding up.

Just how long had he been standing there? Did he watch me tinkle? For the sake of my sanity, I hoped not.

None of this makes sense! I might not have heard him. Unless... wait a second.

My glare dropped to his massive feet. My eyes widened.

Chess only had white ankle socks on. The sneaky bastard had removed his shoes, so I couldn't hear him when he walked in.

I snapped my head up to his smug face looking down at me with a mischievous grin and, narrowing my eyes, hissed, "Why you sneaky little shit! What are you doing here? And for how long?"

"Well, my lady. I did notify you that I would come if you took too long. Anyway, I grew impatient and came in intending to tell you about something but saw you turning on the shower and thought this would be a perfect time for me to watch a free striptease," he started before brushing his nose with his hand and carrying on, "and then I decided to observe you in your natural habitat. So, it's relatively not that long."

The casualness of his tone was alarming. He was completely oblivious to how weird that was, or maybe he simply didn't care. However, from what I had learned about him, it was probably a combination of the two.

"Chess! That's not okay!" I scolded.

Frustration triggered me to smack the slyly furtive son of a bitch in the chest, but that just made him laugh. I was about to give him a series of whacks with both fists. However, using one hand like a pair of handcuffs, he clasped my wrists together and immobilized me.

I tried to break away from his grip by pulling. My dumbest decision ever.

It should have clicked earlier when he lifted me that what I did was as effective as having a tug-of-war with a brick wall. The action resulted in me crashing into his hard body. Our chests pressed against each other, and before I could retreat, his free arm wrapped itself around my waist and locked me in place.

I was trapped. Yet that didn't stop my mouth from blurting out my argument, "Have you heard of knocking? What about privacy? Do either of those ring a bell?"

He clicked his tongue, then groused, "Firstly, knocking is overrated and ruins the element of surprise. And about the privacy one, let's be honest with ourselves here, Mindy." His mesmeric smirk made my heart leap into my mouth as he finished, "Do you truly want that when a man like me is around to feed your fantasies?"

A part of me couldn't believe what I was hearing. However, the other part was too distracted by the nonexistent space between us and how our heartbeats conversed. Like our contrasting personalities, his rhythm was fast, steady, and strong while mine was accelerating, erratic, and loud.

Alas, I had a serious issue with verbal diarrhea and exclaimed, "Seriously, Chess! I could've been taking a shit!"

That temporarily froze both of us. Naturally, he thawed first and exploded with laughter, while I followed suit and wished the universe swallowed me right there and then. He was dying of laughter, and the fact that I said that out loud made my cheeks burn and my body shiver from embarrassment.

At least there was truth to my statement. Taking a dump with someone in the immediate vicinity was one of my greatest fears. I knew some long-term couples did that. But I couldn't wrap it around my head.

The idea of being that comfortable with another human being should be outlawed. It freaked me out so much that my perturbation skyrocketed at just the mere thought of it.

Chess eventually composed himself and, nonchalantly, replied, "Eh, we are all humans, and sooner or later nature will take its course. Honestly, it wouldn't bother me at all. It would worry me if you didn't." His voice went dangerously deep as he added, "Since that would mean I wouldn't be able to pleasure you anally, and that would be a waste of such a fine ass."

The man was a wizard of words because dirty statements like that made my nipples rigid. At this point, I didn't care if he could feel them through his shirt. The large bump from his pants had been poking my navel the entire time.

Dear God, could this man quit screwing around and just fuck me already.

To add to that, I promised Him I would be a good girl and confess my sins at my local church because, after what transpired that night, I bet my life I'd have a special seat in hell if I didn't.

Being in a steamy room with someone endowed with seraphic visions and a phenomenal physique who enjoyed teasing the shit out of you was pure torture in the best way possible.

Yes, Chester Nel's occasional self-centeredness, unyielding captiousness, and know-it-all attitude were nettlesome. However, it could be glossed over with his impressive quick-wittedness, relatively liberal rationality, and debonair comportment. The complexity of his disposition was both mildly aggravating and intriguing, and, of all the men I met in my life at that point (with the mysterious Johan as an exception), I could study him forever.

I was so heated from the argument and too preoccupied with our erecting bodies that I hadn't noticed that his hand had snuck past my lower back and lifted my skirt. However, I came to that realization when he viciously grabbed my butt cheek and squeezed it hard enough that a faint whine escaped my mouth.

Massaging it gently – almost apologetically – and then moving to the other, he chuckled a little more before saying, "My little angel sure is sensitive. Remember when I said you had to earn my touch?" I nodded, and he continued, "I think I have tortured you enough. So, how about I end your suffering and take you to heaven?"

"Please do," I begged.

His striking, hungry grey eyes feasted on the desperation that emitted from my thirsty hazel ones as he guided me to the shower's glass wall. At that moment, it was like we were at some fancy ball, slow dancing to the lilting strum of the running water. Once he had my warm back pressed against the cool glass, he unshackled my wrists, slid both his meaty hands under my ass, and hoisted me up against the wall.

Instinctively, I secured myself by wrapping my legs around his surprisingly small waist. Getting into this position resulted in my skirt riding past my waist, which prompted our crotches to roughly brush against each other. That accidental graze plunged my soul into a euphoric state and had me cursing like a marine. "Ah! Shit!"

I used one hand to grab the back of his head, ruffling his soft, wavy hair, as the other hooked itself around the nape of his thick, warm neck. The subtle, refreshing scent of tea tree oil and peppermint from his jet-black locks became louder when his head sweetly nestled my neck in return and whispered, "Babe, you smell so good. It's driving me insane."

As flattering as that was, my elevated self-consciousness confessed, "Thanks, but I'm not going to lie, I am sweaty from the hot weather. That's why I was going to take a shower."

"It's okay. I prefer my caramel salted anyway," he reassured me before planting a peck on my jaw. "Seriously, next time you're around town and you're coming from the gym, call me."

His funny and kind words sparked a small flame of pleasant fuzziness inside of me, and, for a moment, all I wanted was to remain in his embrace for the rest of eternity. Due to its rarity, I appreciated his soft side and tightened our hug. We shared some giggles and then did nothing for a minute but cuddle. His eyes shut as he nuzzled me and tenderly squeezed my butt.

However, the tenderness didn't last long because his aggressive sexual nature gradually led to him attacking me with hot, wet licks, tender kisses, and vampiric love bites. All that and his vigorous groin rubbing had my hot, trembling body having a wild party downstairs.

It was a perfect moment to steal a kiss from him and invade his mouth. Just like the pulsating cherry in my underwear yearned for undivided attention, I wanted to taste him already. Whatever his reason was for depriving me of my deserved make-out session, I didn't give a damn — I was through waiting!

Driven by determination, I wrung my hands around his neck just above his Adam's apple and used my thumbs to lift his head to my level. However, when my hands cupped his beautiful face, and we locked eyes, time stopped.

From his piercing gun-metal silver eyes, short dark tousled hair, and sharp nose to his clear and smooth tanned skin, long black lashes, and plump pink lips, his godly chiseled features were those of a male model. I couldn't help but marvel at his beauty for a moment. His narcissistic tendencies were starting to make sense to me, because, gifted with all of these attributes, he had every right to love himself. He was artwork at its finest quality.

His breathing was heavy as he panted, "What is it? Do you want another staring contest? Or are you just falling in love with my face?"

"No, you idiot," I murmured, stroking his cheeks with my thumb.

Even though it was true that I was in awe of his features, it was comments like that that urged me to strangle him. However, other things upset me, and it was slowly eating away at what little confidence I had.

So, I took a deep breath and expressed my concern, "Chess, why won't you kiss me?"

"Have I not been kissing you all this time?" he asked with a raised brow.

"Pecking my hand, chin, and forehead while ambushing my chest and neck doesn't count," I elaborated before clarifying, "I'm talking about tongue-to-tongue action. Is it my breath? Because I made sure not to pick something with garlic or too many onions."

A glint of concern flashed in his beautiful silver eyes, and I felt him swallow down some saliva. He spoke up, "No, it's not that. That doesn't matter to me."

"Then why won't you just kiss me?" I demanded. You could tell my impatience was increasing as my voice got louder with each word.

"Mindelyn ..." he trailed off.

"Do you have cold sores or something?"

"What? No," he blurted in defense, squinting his eyes for a moment and then shaking his head. "It's complicated."

Complicated? Oh, please.

"What's so complicated about a damn kiss? What kind of adult man can't share some saliva?" My questions were relentless.

He kept avoiding the question with the same dumb excuse. "Mindelyn, can we not fight again? I'm too horny for this. It's complicated, so let's leave it at that and continue."

"No!" I cock-blocked him.

His mouth dropped open a little as he stammered, "N-no?"

"Yes, it's a 'no' until you stop beating around the bush and give it to me straight!" I hissed.

His eyes widened. However, they soon shut and opened with a glint of rage. "You want to know why?"

I shuddered under the weight of his scowl, but I refused to crumble under it as well. Besides penetration, it was a main ingredient in the most basic recipe for sex. "Yes! Why won't you kiss me, Chester Nel —"

"Fok! Are you my wife or something, huh? Why are you so deserving of — eish!" His yelling died down to hushed down to a more neutral and less threatening tone as said, "It's too intimate for me."

My body was tense, and I didn't know what to do. Shouting triggered something in me that made me want to hide. I blamed that on my biological father, not him. Unlike that hateful and short-tempered sperm donor, Chess had the right to be mad. I poked him too hard.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to raise my voice at you. That was very distasteful. It's just too intimate for me," he repeated in a whispered tone. For the first time tonight, his vulnerability leaked out as he dropped his eyes to the floor — well, technically, my breasts — but you get what I was saying.

That didn't explain how he could get away with sleeping with people without that basic necessity. I knew I had poked the bear hard enough already, but, with bear spray at my disposal, I narrowed my eyes and called it what it was: "Bullshit."

"Huh?" He slowly brought up his head to face me with widened eyes. "What I said is true."

I rolled my eyes. "Let me guess. You're saving your smooches for marriage or some lame shit like that?"

"Oh, God no. I will never get married. I don't even do relationships."

"You just said I was demanding like a wife..."

I had an epiphany when I dissected his words and tone. Everything was starting to make a shitload of sense.

So I shared it with him: "Is billionaire Chester Nel you scared of liking someone?"

"No, I just haven't found someone I want that badly to share that with," he stated very firmly. I'm not going to lie, I would've bought it, but I had picked up on his mannerisms very quickly, and he was drowning in so much denial. Though as smart as a whip, he hadn't realized that he was lying to himself. I had one piece of evidence to back it up, and I didn't waste time in informing him.

"That's bullshit because you were brushing my lips with yours earlier."

His body tensed, and his heartbeat went from fast and steady to turbulent and irregular. His face flushed bright red before burying itself in my chest again. He tightened our embrace for some reason, but I associated it with his embarrassment or whatever else he felt. It was hard to read him sometimes, especially when he refused to face me.

As this man continued to hide his face in my boobs, I started thinking that maybe I had pushed him too far. A good fraction of guys didn't go down on their partners, some didn't fancy anything anal (particularly on them), and others just wanted it as vanilla as possible and refused to let the woman be on top.

Maybe this was the same thing he had with some lip-to-lip action — or anything that had to do with the other person's mouth. Yes, it was disappointing, but it wouldn't be the first time, and it didn't help that I got very importunately nagging when I got exceptionally amorous.

"Whatever, Chess. Just don't go offering samples if you aren't willing to share the menu," I scolded him while tenderly petting his head. That was when I realized the shower had been on for a long time. So, I asked, "Um, by the way, do you mind putting me down so that I can switch off the water?"

He didn't move. So, I tapped him and even called his name, but he still didn't budge. I was about to speak up when he mumbled something into my chest. However, I didn't catch any of it other than the hot, vibrating tickle of his breath on my skin.

So I asked, "What was that? I couldn't hear you."

He lifted his head, looked me in the eyes, and said, "Keep the shower on. It muffles moaning and, depending on the volume, screaming as well."

Huh? This is about water preservation. What the hell is he talking about?

Confused, I tilted my head with narrowed eyes and said, "Wait. What does that have to do with —"

He didn't let me finish when he smacked his lips on mine and stole my breath. With wide eyes, I was too shocked to react. He pulled away, caught sight of my frozen response, then emitted an amused grin.

Humored by my reaction, his smile was also relatively affectionate. The fuzzy warmth deep in my chest returned with a slight increase in intensity, which led to blood rushing to my face and me mirroring his reaction.

Melting in his arms, I shut my eyes and let him do his thing.

He started with sweet, delicate pecks that fed the army of fluttering butterflies in my stomach. However, as time progressed, so did the amorousness and length of his kisses. His rosy lips were so juicy, moist, and soft that I couldn't get enough of them.

I want more.

I wanted so much more.

Nevertheless, I just suppressed my burning urge to go any further. After the earlier demand, I grew hesitant to ask anything and felt more comfortable with him being in the driver's seat.

However, it was as if he had read my mind when he bit my bottom lip teasingly. It was a clever trick because it left my mouth ajar, creating enough space for his tongue to slip right through. He went right in, wet, rough, and determined, sparking a flavorful explosion of Coca-Cola and caramel (I think from his dessert earlier) in my mouth.

It was so good as I kissed him back that I felt intoxicated and lightheaded. Just like him in this heated moment, his tongue was hot, forceful, and torrid as it wrestled with mine with the occasional brush of my teeth. It was at this moment that he had me hooked on him like a drug.