All Chapters of Foster: Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

I would never have accounted for the feeling of having my neck kissed being so glorious. Not even in a million years would I have truly known it would feel so provocative and intimate. Yet that's how I've come to know that he is. Provocative. Intimate. I feel like nobody else when I'm in his arms; and I've only been in his arms in this way for a hot minute. Even before, when he held me as a child and a teenager, I've felt this way. I've felt like he'd never hold anybody the way he held and holds me. I've felt as if his grip is strong and endearing just for me. Everything he does is just for me. But it isn't — that's just how I feel. And things that I feel do tend to be in the habbit of being far from the truth. 

Surprisingly, it's her kiss to increase gently in speed as she lifts herself to her knees and her mouth twists with mine eagerly. But it's my hands to tug her onto my lap where I hold her in place and battle her tender kiss with my own. She's delicate and enticing and private in so many delightful ways — she's just mine, right now, and I'm just hers. The girl's hands are warm as she lifts them to my shoulders and her face rests against my own. In a way, her kiss is rough and desperate, and her hands are packed with a chorus of emoti

I've always assumed that hospitals smell bad simply because it's impossible to truly flush out the reeking scent of death; blunt and brutal. In fact, I think the smell never truly leaves. At the end of the day, when the bleach begins to wash away and the air conditioners are eased, the smell can stretch and yawn -- and it has bad breath. Perhaps it's best that death has a pungent smell, perhaps it's just for someone to be aware that a life was lost in the vicinity even if we don't know the person — perhaps its sole purpose is to give life the true value it's stripped of when people kill one another or bludgeon their wives with axes.

And it is hot, I want him to tell me what to do. I want him to boss me around and dominate me, completely. And then he finally does look like he's battling a smile, even just a small one. Still by what I would excuse with wine, I elaborate even more daringly than I assume I normally would, "It's sexy as hell when you're telling me to do as I'm told," In all honesty, I wish he would more often."Just get to bed, Princess," He doesn't fumble with

It's a strange thing indeed that I can say my daughter's lips taste odd. They taste sweet and raw. It's even odder that I can vouch for just how they feel. They feel soft yet rough in the places she's bitten them, they feel swollen and slick with a mix of her breath and my own. The thought many would call the girl my daughter where I would call her my lover makes my stomach turn but better yet, it excites me. Her love affair is thrilling. She, herself, is irresistible. I'm not too sure ho