Chapter 92. Sexual Move

James is kissing her passionately and she isn't resisting a bit. They are standing in the middle of Lydo’s sitting room, giving and getting every kiss they’ve ever gotten or given; kissing from memory. Kissing: fast, hard, deep, frantic, long, and slow. It was as if they were tasting their lips, the mouth, the tongue. James puts his hands to Lydo’s face, the softness of Lydo’s skin; the absence of the rough scruff and scratch of a stale shave is so unfamiliar as to seem impossible. James rubs his face against Lydo’s - sweeping the cheek, the high, light bones, muzzling the ear, the narrow line of the eyebrow, finishing with a butterfly flick of the lashes.

James was at her breast, caressing it as he seemed best. She was putting on a top and that didn’t stop James from caressing and pressing the breast like a butter pile. A noise escapes Lydo’s, an embarrassingly deep sigh - like air rushing out of something. Lydo can’t believe that she’s letting this happen; she’s not stopping