Fuck this guilty pleasure. I’m here, acting like a complete thirsty woman who begs for his kisses and touch without actually saying it. By my actions, it seems like I’m initiating it all.

I can feel our body heating up. My hands couldn’t find whatever it was looking for. My naughty hands just managed to grasp his hair because of too much tension going on.

”Please,”

I’m not sure if that’s  supposed to be a moan or a pleading. He’s drunk, I know. But he’s acting sane while I ...