When he claimed her lips with hers again, it wasn't gentle. It wasn't tentative. It was all raw hunger, lips crushing, teeth scraping her bottom lip hard enough to sting, drawing a sharp gasp that he swallowed whole. His tongue swept in, thick and demanding, tasting of something sweet and dangerous at the same time, something darker, deeper, exploring the wet heat of her mouth with a hunger that bordered on feral. It spun her head, made her moan helplessly into him, the vibration buzzing through his lips, and he answered by tilting her head further, angling deeper, tongue sliding slick against hers in a rhythm that was already filthy, already claiming. One she couldn't take anymore of. Her head was spinning. Her legs were buckling. Every nerve in her was on fire that burns so hot she had to break the kiss. She shouldn't have broken the kiss. That was her first coherent
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