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 tagged piercing
