I place my hands on his shoulders, I hit him and move to make him release me. It's not how I wanted, it's not what I wanted. I feel the bile rise in my throat, it's disgusting, sickening. He thrusts his tongue into my mouth. His kisses, they're not like Mathew's and I hate them.
His lips move fiercely, his hand around my waist pulls me closer to him, and he holds my face with his hand so I can't move.
Stop it, please… It's vomitous, I don't like the taste of his lips, I don't like anything about him. It's like kissing an iceberg, it doesn't cause or provoke butterflies in my stomach. Not like the ones I feel with his brother.
“Let me go,” my breathing like his is ragged. My hand stamps on his cheek. “Don't ever lay a hand on me again!”
“Shut your mouth, unless it's to clean the floor”
