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Chapter 3 by Moistmaker Moistmaker

Intensity or flippancy

Embrace

His hand finds her hip and pauses. When Scott leans in, pressing his body lightly against hers, she doesn’t step away — she tilts her head just slightly, inviting the whisper she knows is coming.

“You taste like the part of the night people forget,” he says, lips brushing her ear.

Sharon turns to face him fully now. Her hands, still damp, rest on his chest as if to push — but don’t.

“Then taste me,” she whispers back.

They kiss hard, clumsy, lips meeting with an ache that neither of them has named aloud. Her back presses against the counter, his hands greedy at her waist. She arches into him, letting the moment stretch, deepen — until a glass clinks behind her invading their moment.

Allowing their eyes to refocus on eachother. As Scott pawed at her breasts the instance sending vibrations up her body as she pulled aside her dress breast spewing forth.

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Embracing

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