Heaven And Hell novel Chapter 4

Come on, there was tongue action involved here! I was getting carried away by a demanding kiss that was initiated and taken over by Michael Cutting.

Michael Cutting, of all people, who only kissed me because I was annoying him and that I didn't know when to shut up at a crisis like we were having in this stupid, tiny closet that my best friend and Michael's cousin set up purposefully for the two of us, so that we could get along very well, thinking they did a great job of hooking us up!

I swore I was going to rip their heads off like I was freaking Ozzy Osbourne and Viv and Frederick were a pack of bats in my hands. That was how much I wanted to kill them.

I could think of better plots for their demise -- but, if I do say so myself, I really think the rubber ducky-slash-ping-pong action was on the top of my list -- though I really couldn't think straight right now because Michael Cutting -- Michael Cutting! -- was Frenching me.

It would have been great if the guy kissing me were Alex Pettyfer instead of this dark-haired jerk!

Let me just say, though...Michael is an amazing kisser. I know he was my first real kiss and all, but even I wasn't stupid enough to not realise that the guy really knew what he was doing. I couldn't lie about that. But I didn't know what to do with his lips. Hello, I kissed the biggest nerd at school in the fifth grade (who turned out to be a hottie, so they said)! How was I supposed to know anything about proper kissing?

Yet Michael here, well. He certainly knew a thing or two about it.

I froze as his tongue dipped into the corner of my mouth, tracing the contours. I tried to do the same, I really did, as much as I hated myself for it, but what happened was that I licked his nose. Or at least I thought it was his nose. It was odd, since I really thought there was a hole that I licked through, and it wasn't his mouth...

"Aw, that's disgusting!" Michael complained, lifting his head up from me.

"What did I do?" I demanded, breathing hard from our kiss, still a little dazed.

"You just kissed my nostril! Nostril, Keller, nostril. I would've laughed if you accidentally kissed the tip of my nose, but my nostril?"

I wriggled my right arm up, trying as hard as I could to free it and smack his head. Unfortunately, I couldn't. "It's too dark!" I yelled in frustration. "I couldn't see a single thing!"

"You're terrible. Just terrible." I felt him wiggling his body to get a comfy spot. "If you knew how to kiss, you'd perfectly trust your instincts and follow it, letting your lips meet the person's own that you're about to kiss."

"Why, Michael," I said with mock-brightness, "I didn't know what an expert you are at these things!"

But of course, I knew. He just kissed me nicely a minute ago. My, how things changed in only sixty seconds.

"I bet it took you several girls to kiss just to perfect the art of French kissing."

I actually heard him smirk. "It took me just once to finally perfect it with a girl."

"A hooker?" I queried brightly, batting my lashes. It was a stupid gesture. Batting my lashes, that is. He couldn't even see me.

He leaned his head a few inches toward me. I could feel his hot breath. "You."

I spluttered and stammered, beginning to get irritated at myself for failing to say a cutting (no pun intended) remark.

"Actually..." he murmured softly, his voice turning low and husky. "I kind of did a pretty good job, didn't I? As I was kissing you oh-so passionately, I truly believed that you've never been kissed before...because you nearly froze. Plus, you suck at it. And I'm not talking about the literal sense of the word 'suck,' love."

"Gotcha."

"I didn't say anything," I growled menacingly.

"Ah, but you were defensive. Shocked too. If you add both of those, I'd say you were guilty and terrified to know that I, Michael Cutting, now knows about your horrifying kissing experience with a complete dolt when you were a kid."

Guilty as I was acting, I couldn't help it: I made a great effort to lift my leg off the ground and stomp on his foot with enough force to make him yelp. Not only that, I head-banged him.

This, I thought, was a terrible idea because after I knocked his forehead with my own, I pulled back and shut my eyes so hard that I thought they would move back around to my brain.

"Crap!" I whimpered, clutching my forehead.

"What the fuck was that all about?" Michael screamed, tapping his foot from the pain.

"What you deserved, you asshole!"

"Okaaay, times up, love bir -- oh, my God." I heard Vivian's voice but I really couldn't see her since my eyes were still shut from the agony washing over my forehead.

"What happened?" she exclaimed, horrified.