His careful touch tangled within my hair as my fingers pulled his collar against me until our bodies would meet. When he was certain that I would not pull from him or even push him away from me and claim he took advantage of the situation, his touch would trail down my back and reach beneath my rear until I was dependent on him to keep me from falling off of the desk. But his fingers would remain as they led my legs to his back, tightening around him, as his lips kept mine in possession, giving me a soft introduction to a French kiss.
Tasting of cigarettes and mint, I was intoxicated by this fire between ups, finally fanned following a week of boisterous tension now balmed by the feeling of his want showing through to me. But he was not the ravenous type that I had expected. Instead, he
