Page 39 of The Death of Kisses

“You look incredible,” I confirmed softly, placing a gentle kiss on her cheek, then along her jawline, reverent and full of admiration.

She gasped, a blush igniting across her cheeks, and I smiled—my heart swelling with a mixture of longing and awe. I placed another tender kiss, tracing across her face and down her body, lost in the intensity of the moment, every touch, every breath, fueled by a passion that burned brighter than words could express.

She shoved my head downward across her body in a frantic urgency that electrified my senses. I trailed kisses down her stomach pausing at her belly button to gaze into those deep ocean eyes. My hands glided across her body and up to her breasts as my face sank lower between her thighs. Without any hesitation my tongue darted across her sensitive clitoris without regard. Flicking and swirling my tongue in a slow circular pattern. My fingers traced her dusty rose nipples in the same slow tease. I heard gasps and small moans slip out of her as she tried to angle her hips to give me more access.

Chasing her clitoris with my tongue I trailed my hand across her abdomen and in between her thighs, teasing her entrance with the tip of my finger. Her wetness coating the tip of my finger as I glided around her labia as her juices soaked my face.

Anna’s hips bucked trying to find friction against my teasing finger but I was too enamored by her. Like it was some sort of spell she casted over me.

“Please,” she whimpered, her thighs trembling in anticipation, her heart thudding wildly in her chest. My tongue lashed against her as her thighs clamped around my ears.

My finger slipped inside her soft wet wall, hammering against her g-spot. Her nipple rolled between my thumb and forefinger as I sucked at her clit like a dying woman. Truth was I was starved for her touch and I would not let her go until I had my fill. Her soaked pussy clenched against my finger as everything tightened. Her breaths became uneven, frantic. Her hands tangled in my hair both trying to pull me closer and shove me away. Broken pleas filled the room as I continued to light her body ablaze. Every movement against her body had one purpose to make sure she’d never forget this night.

Her eyes locked with mine, a sensual stare as she ground her pussy against my face, I slipped another digit inside with ease and watched as her face morphed into a cloud of pleasure and bliss. Her mouth hung slack with a moan and her body rocked as she exploded on my face. Pussy quivering and soaking wet I worked her through the highs of orgasms and when she’d stopped shaking from the motions I laid next to her drawing soft circles down her stomach watching as her body slipped into a sleep.

“Soon you’ll be all mine, and mine alone,” I whispered, placing a soft kiss against her forehead. Her body stirred as if she’d heard me and I laid there, watching her sleep with a smile on my face. Girlfriend. The word echoed around my head still thrilling me even now as I watched her breaths even out and her body slip into endless darkness.

28

I MUST BE DREAMING

Present day - October 20th - Town of PineRidge - Population 5025 - 18 yr old

Ishould have known last night wasn’t real the moment I woke up to an empty bed at the crack of dawn, a hollow ache settling deep inside me. I threw my head back into my pillow, hunger and frustration coiling in my chest as I let out a weary groan. Charlie didn’t come with me—she doesn’t like me enough, I told myself. I was too bold, too desperate, and now I’m left with this ache of rejection. Maybe that’s why I paused—my hope flickering—when I thought I heard Dad’s laugh from the kitchen, as if a fleeting reminder that perhaps there’s still some hope, some warmth amid the solitude I’m drowning in.

I gently pulled back the sheets, my heart pounding with a mix of exhaustion and longing. I grabbed one of my oversized T-shirts, slipping it over my head as I staggered toward the kitchen, my eyes still blurred with tears I couldn't quite hold back. When I looked up, there she was—standing there in my clothes, her laughter ringing through the room, shining brightly as she shared a moment with Dad that felt like a fragile piece of happiness I almost feared to disturb.

“Oh hey, honey,” Dad’s voice was tender, full of warmth as he smiled at me. Charlie’s face lit up as she slid a mug of steaming coffee toward me, their affection wrapping around me like a comforting embrace.

“You’re still here?” I gasped hopeful as she drew near, her presence so soothing yet bittersweet.

“Of course, silly,” she said gently, her eyes full of innocence and affection. “Remember, we had a sleepover.” She leaned in, kissed my cheek softly, and suddenly, a blush rose to my face, my heart fluttering unexpectedly.

Then Charlie’s voice, so earnest and sincere, cut through the quiet. “Mr. Jacobs, I would love to take your daughter out on a date this afternoon. Do you mind if we reschedule therapy?” Her face was serious, full of genuine intent, making my chest tighten with hope and nervous anticipation.

Dad looked up from his newspaper, a small smile playing on his lips as he considered her words. “Hmm?” he murmured, then nodded softly. “Oh, yeah, that’ll be fine. You two kids go and have fun.”

I glanced at Charlie, and the way her eyes met mine sent a jolt straight to my heart, making my pulse race uncontrollably. As I smiled at her, she gently nudged the coffee in my hand, her voice soft but filled with warmth, “Drink up, we’ve got school in about an hour.”

I nodded, taking a hesitant sip. How did she know how I drink my coffee? Every detail was flawless. The perfect balance of cream and sugar, the warmth of the coffee wrapping around me like a comforting hug—everything about it felt just right, just like her.

Her eyes watched my throat as I swallowed and I couldn’t help but picture last night when she was buried between my thighs. As if instinctively I clenched them feeling the wetness of my release still coating the inner thigh.

Charlie gave me a knowing smirk and I blushed, hiding my face in the coffee.

I called out with a burst of warmth in my voice, “I’ll make breakfast,” fighting to keep my focus, even as Charlie’s presence still lingered here, tempting me with every glance. My hands moved instinctively toward the stove, pulling out a few pans, setting them gently on low heat as I dolloped buttery goodness into each one, feeling the melt as my senses sharpened. I grabbed the bisquick and some eggs, the milk from the fridge—every movement fueled by a rising passion, a craving for something more.

“Pancakes or French toast?” I asked with anticipation.

“Pancakes,” Charlie answered softly, a mischievous sparkle in her eyes. “They sound like cake for breakfast, and honestly, I could use that kind of sweetness to start the day.” Dad nodded in agreement, and I lost myself in whisking the batter, cracking eggs with deliberate care, the sizzle of the batter hitting the pan singing to me. I seasoned the eggs with salt and pepper, then reached for a ripe tomato from the vegetable drawer, dicing it fine and slipping it into the eggs, feeling the flavors come alive.

As I turned the pancake, my gaze kept darting up to meet Charlie’s, her eyes catching mine each time—the electricity between us impossible to ignore. My heart raced as I served breakfast, a genuine smile spreading across my face when everything was ready. The towering stack of pancakes sat invitingly beside three fluffy omelets, a feast that felt charged with unspoken promise.

I handed out plates, the warmth of the syrup jar between us, thick and glossy, a sweet temptation. “Dig in,” I grinned, my voice thick with emotion, clutching an omelet and a few pancakes for myself.

Charlie reached for the same, her eyes shining with something fierce and tender. Dad took a generous portion, utterly unbothered, but I was fixated on Charlie—watching with bated breath as she cut into her omelet, then took that first, deliberate bite of the eggs.

A soft, sensual moan escaped her lips—the kind that stirred something deep inside me, an undeniable longing. The sound hit me like a wave, igniting a fire in my chest, my thoughts spiraling to a place of wild desire—wondering what it would be like to have her begging for release.