Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 107619 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107619 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Then let us make it comfortable. How shall we do this? What is best? Do we sit? Stand?
He looks at me, so earnest and serious, and I can’t help but chuckle. We’re both newbies to this, aren’t we? He’s not familiar with kissing and all I know is from—
Shit. Now I’m thinking of that book with the pictures again.
His eyes widen, and the gold deepens. What are these images flashing through your mind? I keep seeing them.
Oh god. Busted.
I feel nervous at the thought of explaining it. “It’s from a book…about sex. I just wanted to see if there were…” I swallow hard. “Tips. Make sure we weren’t missing anything.”
A book? Show me. There is fascination in his gaze.
Show him? Wordless, I pick up the book and hold it out to him. He takes it and examines the dark brown cover and then looks a little puzzled. “Um, you open it,” I tell him, and then flip the pages. It falls open to a rather graphic and huge picture of a hairy guy’s flaccid dick, with pubes everywhere. I blanch at the sight. All that hair.
Zohr looks less skittish than I am. He peers down at the book, fascinated, then touches the picture. Then he turns the book over, as if trying to see where the “person” on the pages goes. What is this?
“It’s a picture. It’s an image that’s captured and printed on paper.” He touches the paper again then tries to turn a page. His claws make it difficult to delicately lift the paper and he frowns down at them, then glances over at me. Can you do this for me?
“Oh, sure.” Why the hell not. I flip back a page and there’s a close-up of an equally hairy different penis. Jesus, was this book done in the 70s? “Anything you want to look at in particular?” I ignore the squeak in my voice.
Is there kissing in this book? Or just cocks with no faces?
A half-hysterical giggle escapes me. “I’m pretty sure there’s everything in this book.”
I want to see kissing. He nudges the book toward me and then gives me an expectant look.
Right. I take the book with sweaty hands and flip through the front, looking for kissing. There’s a fair amount of words and anatomy drawings, and then I find a picture that looks like kissing. I open the book wider so we can both look at it, and Zohr peers over my shoulder.
It’s…well, it’s kissing. Kind of. It’s really gross, tongue-y kissing. There are two people on the page and their mouths are wide open, their tongues pushing against one another in an awkward way that shows far too much mouth and not enough kiss. I’m also pretty sure I can see slobber. “Maybe this isn’t a good example.”
You do not kiss like this? He gives me a curious look.
“I’m not sure anyone kisses like this,” I admit, and I’m disappointed. I was hoping for some sexy illustrations or titillating pictures. So far all I’ve gotten is excessive body hair, weird-ass kissing, and a lot of secondhand humiliation.
Show me how you would kiss, then.
My mouth goes dry. I forget all about the book and look over at him. His eyes are whirling gold and beautiful, and his face is close to mine. I glance down at his mouth, and he leans in, expectant.
I lean closer to him, too, unable to resist. As I do, I catch a hint of his scent—spicy and musky and dragon-y all at once. His breath is warm on my cheek and our noses brush against each other as we move closer.
Our lips brush, and then I’m kissing him. My mouth moves against his, and I’m both uncertain and fascinated. He feels firm against my lips, but his skin is soft. His mouth parts slightly under my own, and experimentally, I graze my tongue against the seam of his lips.
The groan he utters makes goosebumps flash through my entire body. I pull back, breathing hard and surprised at how much I felt through all of my body just from that one small kiss.
“Emma,” he pants, and his hand goes to my neck, curling around it to hold me close. He nudges my mouth with his once more, our noses bumping, and then we kiss again. This time, we lead with tongues, as if we’re both eager to taste the other. I lean into him and bury my hands in his hair even as his mouth locks on mine and the kiss goes deeper.
I barely notice as he puts a hand to my waist and pulls me against him, crushing me against his chest. Nor do I notice that his big hand slides down to my butt, or that I’m straddling his thigh. I’m too fascinated by the play of our mouths against one another, of his tongue and the hot spear of it into my own mouth, and how it feels when I lightly play mine against his.