'Fuck it' He hissed.

With one grip, he pulled her to himself and crashed his lips on hers.

If he had thought he felt fire burn through him the first time her hands brushed against his, then this right now was hell itself.

His lips were tangled with hers. He kissed, sucked on her lower lip, bit it occasionally. Everytime Roxanne moaned against his lips, Lancelot felt a new wave of madness sprout up from his belly.

He had kissed women, a whole lot of them. But none had ever consumed him like she did, no woman's lips had ever left him aching for more, praying for more.

Their hands...