1st Kiss Was Intentional Novels & Stories

His gaze searched mine, something raw and unguarded flickering there before he leaned in. The kiss was unhurried. Not desperate or rushed. It was Intentional. His lips brushed mine once, testing, waiting. When I didn’t pull away, he kissed me again, deeper this time, slower, like he was memorizing the moment. My hands found his chest without thinking, fingers curling into fabric as my body reacted before my mind could catch up. He groaned softly, breaking the kiss just long enough to rest his forehead against mine. “This,” he murmured, “is exactly why I tried to stay away.”

“You certainly didn’t succeed at that last part.” He grinned without a trace of humor. “I understand.” I stepped back, heart racing. “I can’t believe I let you kiss me." The intention behind my words was to shame him. Perhaps I was trying to shame myself too. But he simply gazed at me. I closed my eyes, trying to wish it away. I did not want to look at him. I didn't want to remember how my lips parted beneath his, and how my fingers didn't push him away. My first kiss was stolen by the man I was supposed to despise and worse, I let him have it.

I did not have time to ask what he meant. His hand came up, firm but controlled as it tilted my chin slightly, forcing my attention back to him even though I had not fully looked away. And then he closed the distance. The kiss was nothing like Nikolai’s. There was no slow build, no quiet testing of boundaries. It was deliberately and unmistakably intentional, like he already knew exactly what he was doing and had no reason to hesitate. For a second, my mind went blank. Not because I did not understand what was happening, but because I felt it immediately, the difference, the weight behind it, the way it did not ask for permission but still stopped just short of force.

DADDY'S WORK AS THE HELP MUST NOT BE PAYING OFF. The first time I saw it, my heart didn’t break. It clenched, tight, hot, furious, ready to burn them all for their allegations. My first kiss was today, in front of the entire school, and not by the one I had wanted my whole life. I'm not like the rest of them; I'd been saving myself for Matt, thinking of the day he'd come around and hoping it would be soon. There was no way it could have been true.

At least Ireland had made her rebellious, but hadn't taken away her best first times. "And you're only going to kiss on the lips when you're thirty-four years old, until then no kissing!" I warned and she looked at me horrified. I started laughing. "Sweetheart, the first kiss is very special, you need to give it to someone who's worth it, or it'll be such a bad kiss that you'll hate it and regret it and maybe never want to kiss on the lips again," I warned and she stared at me. "It has to be with someone we really like and who really likes us, right Dad?" She was staring at me.

"You're someone special to my friends, I don't want you to get hurt and I don't want to betray their trust. I don't want to go back to being the disappointment I've always been to everyone. I liked you and I'd like to get to know you better, even if only as a... It was my turn to interrupt him, and I leaned in, standing on tiptoe before kissing him, making my decision. The kiss was more restrained than the previous one, I wanted to convey more than desire, I wanted to show that I cared about him, and that I reciprocated. Gustaf's eyes remained closed, his forehead resting against mine and he was gasping for breath as soon as I broke the kiss. "I'm leaving in three weeks, we can use that time

“And I won’t pretend this doesn’t matter.” That’s when I know. Not because he’s powerful. Not because he’s dangerous. Because he stays. I lean in first. The kiss isn’t desperate. It isn’t hungry. It’s careful—like we’re both aware of how much weight it carries. When he kisses me back, it’s with restraint, with intention, with hands that don’t claim more than I’ve offered. For the first time, closeness doesn’t feel like something I’ll have to pay for later.

Her breath catches, her mouth parts slightly, her body softening into the space I'm closing. When I kiss her for the very first time, it's not gentle. My mouth claims hers with intention, pressure measured and certain, not hurried, not exploratory. This is not curiosity, it's decision. I keep it brief at first, just long enough to feel the truth of it... the heat, the response, the unmistakable fact that she's already there with me, fully in the kiss with me.

Deimon, oblivious to her internal turmoil, leaned in further, his warm breath whispering against her ear. "Kate," he murmured, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers cascading down her spine. The air crackled with unspoken words, a yearning that seemed to mirror her own. Then, abruptly, his lips met hers. It was a clumsy collision, more awkward exploration than passionate encounter. Yet, the feeling was undeniable – a spark, a jolt of electricity that sent a rush of heat through her. It was her first kiss, a fumbled dance she'd dreamt of for years.

She giggled softly. Aneet tugged the blanket over their heads, creating a small, private, dimly lit tent. The world outside faded. The world outside ceased to exist. Her small hand brushed against his chest. She leaned closer, lips brushing against his and she whispered against his lips, “I don’t want my first kiss to be in front of fifty people, for the camera or for the screen.” Ahaan’s lips curved into a soft smile. He simply closed the infinitesimal distance between them. Their lips met. The kiss was slow. It was her first kiss and the intimacy of it made the world shrink to the small space beneath the blanket.