He nodded like a man starved, voice wrecked. "Y—"
I didn't let him finish. My mouth crashed down on his, hot and messy and filthy—a kiss that wasn't sweet or gentle or shy. No, this was claiming.
My tongue tangled with his like I was trying to drink him in, drown us both in heat. His moan punched into my mouth like he couldn't take it anymore, his hips jerking up, cock twitching inside me.
I swallowed the sound and kissed him deeper.
My fingers tangled in his hair, yanking just enough to make him growl, and I fucking smiled against his mouth. He tasted like need, like sex and desperation, and surrender.
I kissed him until we were breathless, until saliva slicked between us, until he was trying to chase my mouth even when I pulled back to breathe.
"Still holding on?" I teased against his lips, barely able to form words myself, my voice cracked and hoarse.
