Elijah Vega.
She tastes like dates and caramel. She's soft as stolen honey, sweet enough to ruin me. I could drown in her mouth and die happy.
Every part of her, I want under my hand.
The manner in which Paloma kisses me tells me everything I didn’t dare assume before. I’ve known my own attraction. But until that hymn of a gasp she gave me while our mouths locked…I now dare to suspect that a girl like her…is possibly attracted to a man like me.
How else can I judge the fact that she is the one who laced her fingers over mine, against the perfect swell of her breast and I sink into it like a blind man memorizing a scripture. Slips of softness. The weight of them in my hands are like risen dough, n*****s pebbling against my palms. They’re obscene in their perfection, round as moons as s
