'He's…kissing me?'
Was kissing necessary?
Ezra had never been kissed.
Not like this.
Well…not ever.
The prince's lips were demanding, his tongue sweeping in to claim the space.
Ezra's own attempts were clumsy, sloppy—a mess of panting breaths and uncoordinated movements.
He felt lost due to his lack of experience.
Until a large, warm hand settled firmly on the side of his neck, thumb pressing into the pulse point.
Guiding him.
The prince took control of the kiss, deepening it, slowing it, teaching him with lips and tongue.
It was dizzying.
Consuming.
And Ezra melted into it, his world narrowing to the slick heat of the prince's mouth and the anchoring weight of his hand.
For a few heartbeats, he forgot about the aching emptiness between his legs, lost in the dizzying, possessive kiss.
While Ezra was distracted by the new sensation.
That's when the prince struck.
