Friday, September 27, 2013

The Forbidden Kiss

Book Title: Room 408
Author: M. Andrew Patterson


Before I can raise my hand to knock, the door swings open.  The ring tumbles to floor, forgotten.  He’s standing there, shirt undone, exposing his smooth, hard, chest.  My hungry eyes rove over his body.  His lips quirk in a knowing smile and I want to melt into him and taste their soft perfection.  The fire burning in the pit of my stomach roars to an inferno when I look into his brown eyes, so dark they are almost black.  They are like dark obsidian pools, both frightening and inviting at the same time.  I could lose my soul in those eyes and love each moment of it, all the while begging for more.

My breath stutters and my heart lurches in my chest.  His body beckons and I am a slave to my desire.  My steps are slow and unsteady, my eyes drowning in his, as I enter the den of my ruin.  His strong arms draw me close, his luscious lips a hairsbreadth from mine.  I don’t even notice the door closing behind me.  His eyes, his lips, his body pressed against mine are all that I want.
I ache to caress his lips with mine, to let his tongue explore me, but as I move forward, he moves back, teasing.  His breath warms my lips and my tongue runs along their trembling surface wanting, desiring.  I want to run my hands through his hair and shove my tongue down his throat, but still he teases me.  He wants me to beg.  I want to beg for release.  I’m about to explode into a million pieces with desire.

It’s a game; I move forward, and he draws me further into his domain, always tempting, yet no release.  I moan in desperation.  His laugh is dark and smoky and the sound of it makes my knees buckle.  His arms tighten around me, holding me tight.  His lips brush mine.  The tip of his tongue tastes my lips and I shudder.

His mouth captures mine and my soul explodes.  Tremors cascade over my body as his tongue explores my mouth, twining with my tongue, teasing, tasting.  I melt into his mouth and moan.  My hands frantically claw at his shirt, my nails scratching the perfection of his chest.


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