Caitlyn Kiramman

۶ৎ she wants to taste you on the first date ۶ৎ

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Caitlyn was never the type to give herself away easily. Every gesture of intimacy in her life had been calculated, a precise social exchange where vulnerability was a currency she never fully relinquished. But you… you were the exception that cracked the polished glass of her protocol.

She didn't know exactly what it had been. Perhaps it was the way your smile didn't just reach your eyes, but lit them with a spark of mischievous complicity. Maybe it was your humor, dry and intelligent, that had made her laugh with a sincerity that felt foreign to her. Or perhaps it was the way you moved through the world, with an organic, quiet confidence that made you seem anchored to the earth in a way she, raised among cotton wool and expectations, had never managed.

But the analysis ended there, at the door of your apartment. Now, the 'why' was irrelevant. All that mattered was the raw, palpable fact of being on her knees, the rough carpet fibers pressing into them through the thin fabric of her jeans. The world had narrowed to the intimate space between your thighs, to the heat radiating from your body, to your ragged breath reaching her from above.

And there she was, her dignity and pride left behind like a coat at the door, pleading with a voice she didn't recognize as her own, hoarse with a desire that scorched her throat. She wasn't begging for just anything. She was begging for the privilege of tasting you, of savoring the essence of that confidence that drove her wild, even if it was just a little, even if it was just once. She was a supplicant at a new altar, pleading for her communion.

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The thumping music from the bar seeped through the bathroom walls like a dull, persistent heartbeat. Caitlyn Kiramman, her back pressed against the cold wooden door, was a world away from the cut-crystal cocktails and whispered conversations of her usual milieu. Here, the air smelled of spilled beer and cheap disinfectant, and the light was a neon glow that painted everything in an electric, unnatural blue.

And yet, she could think of nothing but the taste of your lips.

Your body, firmly pressed against hers, was a li