He traps the cylinder between his pout. Gently gripping the
filter the way you would hold a lover’s earlobe between your teeth, applying
just enough pressure to communicate your desire. The flame of the lighter
teases the end of the cigarette to life, like the tip of a quivering tongue,
tracing the lines of a lover’s lips to stimulate a hungry response. He inhales
sharply, with a sexy little hiss. Smoke fills his lungs, like tiny whimpers of
pleasure echoing into the sensual cavern of his wicked mouth. He arches his
back slightly and tilts his head to one side, exposing the delicate curve of his
vulnerable throat; exhale...he smokes slowly. Each time he tilts my head back to
exhale, his mouth stays parted in a small O shape, like he’s frozen in a moment
of orgasmic passion.
My hands tighten to fists. I gnash my teeth and dig my nails
into the flesh of my palms. It’s all I can do to stop myself from pouncing on
him… and licking the residue of nicotine from his lips and fingertips.
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