13 1.12. The Number

My eyes instantly close up at the contact and before I know it, I'm kissing him back.

It's fire, desperation, anger, need and want; all in one at the same time. His lips move desperately against mine as I feel his hands cupping my cheeks to pull me even closer if possible.

I try to catch up with him while tugging at the lapels of his tux jacket as one of my other hands tug at his hair to pull him closer.

It's like I'm a deserter who has been in need of water for days before finally reaching its destination, water.

A thirst which just keeps on increasing as we ravish each other's lips.

His teeth pulls at my lower lip and I release something between a moan and a whimper which is probably result of all the sensations that are going through my body.

God, why have I been avoiding him, again?

That's when I knew all logic has left me. But who gave a damn when it felt so good.

Until a voice whispered in my head...