When heated lips covered his, Trace opened
his eyes, panicked, before he realized he was being kissed, not
suffocated or silenced. An insistent tongue licked the corner of
his mouth, seeking entry. How long had it been since he’d been
kissed so gently, so tenderly? Years. Before his stint in prison,
at least.
The chin above him was hairless and strong
and masculine, and Trace gave in to the sensation, closing his eyes
again as he let the tongue in. It flicked over his teeth, the
inside of his cheeks, his own tongue, before it licked away over
his lips and chin. Small kisses soft along his jaw, wet lips
closing over his earlobe, a man’s breath in his ear. Trace brought
one hand up from his crotch to feel the close-cropped hair of his
visitor, and his fingers found the small tag
