Slowly Kiss Novels & Stories

They kiss, pushing their tongues against each other, touching each other's soft lips, then pull away a centimeter and let tension between them mount, their warm breath on the other's lips, teasing, bringing us in, until. They kiss again, more passionately, but still slowly, taking it out, enjoying it. Sometimes they are madly passionate and their lovemaking is energetic and ardent. But tonight, She want to slow down, to feel everything strongly. "Hmmm..." She stroke his flat belly, her fingers tickled by the hair around his belly button. He is pulling her to him, kissing her hard and long, and slow, and his hand is sliding down toward her butt. He uses it to pull her toward him, pull her int

But the moment our lips connect, a small sound slips from her throat, a soft whimper that shoots straight through me. The bond between us ignites. She responds, her lips parting slightly, her fingers twitching against my wrist as if trying to hold onto me. I deepen the kiss, my hands finding her waist, pulling her closer as I angle my mouth against hers, tasting the sweet, intoxicating softness of her lips. My hand moves to cup her cheek, my thumb stroking her heated skin as I take my time, savoring every second. I kiss her slowly, tenderly, trying to ease the torment inside her, trying to bring her back from the edge.

I boldly state; not waiting for her answer, I start moving my lips breath by breath closer to hers. The moment our lips touch, the world vanishes in an instant. Her lips are softer than I ever imagined, and she tastes even sweeter than heaven. My lips are firm against hers, but the kiss remains soft, gentle, and slow. We hold it for a few seconds before our lips begin to move in perfect sync. My eyes fall closed, and all I could feel was her. Her warmth, her touch, her being.

David leaned down and kissed me…slowly, deep and claiming. David’s kiss was slow, like he was tasting something he’d waited months to sample. His tongue slid against mine, not rushed, just claiming. When he finally pulled back, my lips felt swollen, tingling. His hand stayed cupped under my chin, thumb stroking my jaw as he studied my face.

I wonder if he will be gentle with me, I hope so. "You're wet already?" He inhales. His lips meet mine and he kisses me slowly, his tongue teasing mine. His lips seem to be molded perfectly against mine, made just for me. He pulls away and kisses the corners of my mouth, followed by my nose and then my lips again. My hands go to his back in a desperate attempt to pull him closer to me. "Slow, we need to go slow." He whispers. His lips touched my earlobe. "It's going to hurt, just tell me if you want me to stop. I mean it, okay?" He says in a gentle voice.

Instead, I close the gap between us, tiptoe on my heels and press my lips to his. For a moment, he freezes, caught off guard like he did when I hugged him earlier. But then he responds, his lips soft and warm against mine, the kiss slow and unhurried. It’s not fiery or desperate—it’s steady, grounding, and filled with something deeper than words could ever express.

His hand felt warm on my cheek, and it calmed me in a way nothing else had. Our faces were just inches apart. His eyes moved to my lips for a second and I felt something in my chest jump. He leaned in slowly, like he was giving me time to pull away. But I didn’t. His lips brushed mine so softly that it almost didn’t feel real. It sent warmth straight through my body. The kiss wasn’t rushed or messy. It was slow, gentle, and warm, like he had been waiting for the right moment to do it and he was afraid to push too hard.

A statement. My fingers curled slightly into his shirt. And that was all the answer he needed. He leaned in. Slow. Close enough for me to feel his breath. Close enough for my heart to start racing even faster. And still, I didn’t move. So he closed the distance. The kiss was slow. Intentional. Not rushed. Not careless. His hand tightened slightly at my waist, holding me there as my fingers instinctively gripped his shirt. Everything else faded. The music.

I say in a whisper, and that's when I realise how close we are and how he's not making any attempt to push me away like he's done other days. "Make them go away, Isla. Please." And as he says, his lips close against mine. They taste a little salty because of the dried tears that ran down them. He kisses me slowly, like he needs me. I let him take what he wanted from me willingly. The kiss is slow and steamy, needy and passionate—everything that the two of us need right now. We don't need chaste and sloppy kisses. We need slow because that's how things should be now. Slow. When he breaks the kiss minutes later, I'm as disoriented as him, as I forgot for a second that we're in the middle of th

I whispered, my voice heavy with a mix of desire and pain. Without waiting for a response, I leaned in and kissed her. Our lips met slowly, and gently, testing the limits of the moment. The kiss started tenderly, a shy attempt to connect our worlds that seemed so far apart. But gradually, what began as something soft transformed into a storm of emotions.