You twist and stroke and kiss back

Your mouth met his again in a wet, clumsy clash of teeth and tongue. You press your mouth harder against his, letting your tongue slide wet and heavy against his, the taste of tobacco and salt thick on your lips. Your free hand tangles in the wiry gray hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him deeper into the kiss—sloppy, ****, too much—hoping the overwhelming heat of it will drown out everything else. His groan vibrates against your teeth as your tongue flicks roughly along the roof of his mouth.

Your fingers worked faster now, twisting in that practiced rhythm you hoped would push him over the edge before his relentless fingers could undo you completely. His breath came in ragged bursts, his cock throbbing in your grip as precum slicked every **** stroke.