These Thorn Kisses (St. Mary’s Rebels 3)

For a second, nothing happens.

He’s frozen, unmovable in the face of my bare body. In the face of my thorns and roses.

My heart thuds and thuds in my chest and I feel like a chill is setting in, turning my heated skin blue.

But then it happens.

Piece by piece. Bit by bit.

He begins to thaw. He begins to heat up, even.

It starts with his eyes, dark blue that appear even darker right now. Heavier, more intense, more alive. And a second ago they were focused on my hands, but now they are… unfocused.

They are frantic.

They are everywhere.

Like his hands were when he was kissing me.

On my thighs where his name is written in elaborate swirls. On my lower belly, where I’ve written his name in a stabby font. Then they jump to the side of my ribs where I’ve used a combination of both. Followed by the place just under my breasts and then on my belly again, where I’ve drawn a rose around my belly button, and on the petals, I’ve written his name again in a tiny script.

And while his eyes are on the move, circling, sweeping and going back and forth on my body, the muscles on his are shifting as well.

Shifting and expanding and rising and falling.

As he takes wild breaths. As he parts his mouth. As his pulse ticks on the side of his neck.

And then there are noises. A growl, I think.

Coming from deep inside his heaving chest. Probably originating somewhere in his contracting and expanding stomach.

Finally it reaches — this phenomenon that’s happening to him, this thawing and heating up — his legs.

Because they move.

No actually, they lunge.

They leap across the distance between us and before I can even blink, he’s right there. He appears before me, so close to me that his sweater-clad chest almost grazes the tips of my breasts.

And then that almost graze becomes an overwhelming firecracker of a touch when he leans over and snags an arm around my naked waist. When he yanks me to him, bends his knees and hauls me up. And when he does all that, my naked soft body, my naked soft skin slides and writhes over his scrape-y jeans and his woolen sweater.

Making me gasp.

Making me restless and hot.

And so so wet.

As wet as the kisses he’s giving me.

Because he is.

As soon as he’s made me climb his body, he puts his mouth on me. And of course I latch on. Of course I suck on his plump bottom lip and he sucks on mine with equal vigor.

And he takes me somewhere. Like he did back at my house when he had me in his arms.

Not only that, he also tips and tilts my world — again like he did before — but this time, my back hits warm sheets instead of cold grass. And yet again, he’s all over me.

He’s settled over my naked body, his muscular, unforgiving chest pressing into my plump tits and his jean-clad thighs rubbing against mine. And his mouth still kissing and biting and sucking as his hands feel me up.

As his hands, as rough and delicious as his clothes, roam over my body.

They squeeze my naked tits. They press into my delicate ribs before moving down and kneading my ass. Before moving down further and massaging my thighs. Actually they’re tugging on my thighs, pulling them over his waist, and I wind them around his hips tightly. I even cross my ankles at his back and move.

I rub my naked pussy on his clothes as he breaks the kiss and goes to my throat.

Where the first thing he does is sink his teeth in and bite.

And I jerk as if someone has electrocuted me.

I also moan loud and clear and tilt my head to the side to give him more space, more skin to bite on. To suck on, which he does a second later.

He sucks on my soft flesh like he’s drinking from it. Like he said he would.

He also rubs his nose on my skin like he’s breathing me in.

Before bringing his mouth on my chest. On my tits to be exact.

Not at the nipple though. Where I realize I need him the most. But at the slope of my breast, at the meaty part, which he immediately sinks his teeth into again as my back arches up with pulsing currents.

And then he begins to suck my plump flesh.

I arch up and into his mouth as he sucks and sucks. With such force — God, with such a pull — that his cheeks hollow out. I notice that; I do. His sharp cheeks form pits and his high cheekbones go higher as he sucks and tugs my heavy tit up and away from my body.

Before letting it go and making it bounce and jiggle.

And a red bruise blooms on my pale skin.