Your kisses feel different from his..
She smells like vanilla, cinnamon and apples. And he can taste the sticky, sweet juice of green apples on her lips. It tastes better than any of the sugary, candy-flavored lipglosses she seems fond of wearing—or so he assumes as he’s never gotten to feel her lips until now. Just watched them, transfixed, each time she licked them. Bright and glossy, slick and plump. Her tiny pink tongue would dart out and glide over them. You’re such a tease, he always wanted to say, but never dared. His mouth devoured hers now. I wanna make you feel it too, his demanded. I’ve been waiting to prove to you how much better than him I can be. She smells like vanilla, cinnamon and apples and it’s driving him crazy. He wants to run his fingers through her hair but she won’t let him. He’s running almost desperate hands over her, down her sides, around her waist. Such a tiny waist. It’s amazing how she’s so small. So wonderfully delicate. But the only sharp edges are her elbows and her gaze. Maybe he’ll get to taste her skin later, run his mouth over every inch. So soft, so soft and it’s driving him crazy, he says. She’s moaning, past two parted lips, “Your kisses feel different.” There’s nothing wrong with that
