YUVAN
This kiss was a demand. He pulled me in by the back of my neck, his fingers tangling deep into my hair, tilting my head back to gain better access. He nibbled at my bottom lip, a sharp spark of pleasure shooting through me, before his tongue traced the seam of my lips. When I moaned against him, his other hand—firm and possessive—squeezed my waist, and he surged forward, his tongue meeting mine in a rhythmic, intoxicating dance. He explored every corner of my mouth as if he were trying to memorize the very taste of my soul.
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