We were kissing. The punch must have had been spiked. Otherwise I wouldn’t be locking my lips with the most popular guy in school. My heart was pounding a mile a minute. This couldn’t be happening. It shouldn’t be happening.
But the sudden lick of foreign tongue across my lips told me it was all too real. Breathless, I pulled away to take in a gasp of air. He wasn’t letting me go at all. As quickly as I drew away, he moved in, stealing more of my breaths, crushing me to his chest. I felt like drowning but alive. Very much alive. The heartbeat I could feel through his chest, in my chest, made me weak.
True to his position in his club, he had the most solid chest muscles I’ve ever felt. In contrast, his tongue was soft and seeking, tasting, tickling, inside my mouth. My knees grew weaker and weaker as the kiss went on. I could barely stand and here I was hanging on to dear life. His roving tongue touched mine and stroked as if inviting me to come and play. Timidly, I touched my own tongue to his.
Like a twig snapped, his kiss turned rougher. He lifted me clear off the ground and pushed me up against the wall. I didn’t mind, I just hugged him closer, tighter. My nails bit into his shirt, my lips sought to drink him in, my legs wrapped around his waist. Lips, tongue, nibbles on the corner my mouth, over and over until we’re both panting. Closer, I thought, I wanted to be closer to him. It wasn’t enough.
I bravely moved my left hand to touch his chest, to feel more of him. A groan rumbled out of his chest before a sharp pain on my lips brought me back to sanity.
We’ve stopped kissing. Makoto looked at me with concern in his eyes.
“I’m sorry, did I bite you hard?” he asked while touching a finger to his lips then mine.
“No,” I replied breathlessly.
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