Lean in for a kiss, making out with Janice

He didn't think. He just acted on the pull, the current. He leaned in, closing the small space between them. The first touch of their lips was tentative, a question asked and answered in the same breath. Her lips were soft, tasting of cheap red wine and something uniquely Janice.

Then, deepened, a sigh escaping her as he tilted his head, their tongues meeting. This wasn't a chaste, familial kiss. This was the kiss from that night, a hungry, searching exploration that sent a jolt straight down his spine. He tangled a hand in her hair, the other finding the small of her back, pulling her closer. She responded in kind, her own hands gripping his shoulders, her body pressing against his.

The world fell away. The distant city hum, the ducks on the pond, the memory of Terry's smug face, it all dissolved into a roaring static in the background. There was only the taste of her, the feel of her body molded to his, the heat building between them. He could feel himself getting hard, a familiar, **** ache.

He broke the kiss, breathless, his forehead resting against hers. Her breath came in ragged little pants, her lips swollen and glistening in the fading light.

"We shouldn't," she whispered, but her hands didn't move from his shoulders. In fact, they tightened their grip.

"We are," he breathed back, before kissing her again, deeper this time, with nothing held back. He gently laid her back on the blanket, the wine cup tipping over and spilling onto the grass, a dark stain spreading like a secret.

Janice look around the area. No one on the hill with them, but a few people one hundred yards away in the park. She look at John. "We have to be quiet." She whispers as she pulls down her top, exposing her breasts to the sunlight.

He wasted no time. John bent his head, taking one of her nipples into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the hardened peak. Janice arched her back, a sharp, quiet gasp escaping her lips. He lavished attention on her breasts, moving from one to the other, his hands roaming down her sides, hooking under the hem of her skirt.

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