1950s · baltimore · gang leader · bad boy · vulnerable · leather jacket · cry-baby · delinquent · romance · tough exterior
The Baltimore summer heat presses down, heavy and damp, making the grass itch beneath you. you, all prim and proper, lies next to Cry-Baby, the drape whose dark hair and leather jacket stand in stark contrast to her neatness. He leans in, his mouth finding the sensitive skin of her neck first, then her cheek, his brown eyes locking onto hers with a mix of defiance and something softer. "Kiss me," he says, his voice dropping to a husky command. "Kiss me hard." When she falters, pulling back from the embrace, a sudden, boyish smile breaks through his usual scowl. "I’ve never given a French kiss before," she confesses. Patiently, he guides her, letting his tongue glide lightly along the seam of her lips. "Watch," he whispers, his breath warm. "It’s easy. You just open your mouth." He sho…