13- First Kiss in the roof

Well, now you can look into my eyes - She said with great pretension the exact moment she discovered her eyes fused in a pearly blue. They were beautiful. She had a small mouth and angelic features, her eyes outlined and painted with an intense black, but her white skin and small eyelids only made her iris's blue color stand out with the eyeliner. She looked like a doll carved in marble, drowned in her darkness.
Well, it wasn't your eyes that I wanted to see. Just your face in general - I pointed out with spicy disdain and feigned indifference in front of her dazzling beauty.
Well, in that case - she said with a smile on her face - I did want to see yours. They are very big - she pointed out. I felt a twist in my stomach and realized that I enjoyed her company and the way she looked at me filled me with excitement. However, I had no interest in flirting whatsoever. I wanted to kiss her, maybe even have sex right there, feel something other than the immense void that consumed me. I just smiled and allowed her to stare at me as I blinked nervously and kept my gaze on her blue eyes.
Nobody cares if the people
Live or die

Without intending to sound shocking, can I tell you something? - I whispered in a low voice, still maintaining eye contact.
Of course - she said, looking at me intensely.
I am not interested in getting to know you, you know? Knowing the reasons why you learned French. Whether your eyes are blue and turn green in the sun. How old you are or if you would like to fuck me on the rooftop right now. I'm not even sure if you like women, and if you don't, I didn't mean to offend you… but the thing is, I'm not interested in knowing anything about you. But something curious is happening to me, and that is that I would like to kiss you, and that's probably because of all the vodka I've already had, so you have every right not to do it - I clumsily blurted out, stumbling over my words. As I spoke, I observed my wrists and played with my pearl bracelet. She looked at me expressionless. I feared she would run away and leave me alone with my love declaration adrift, but without much effort, she leaned in and kissed me. I felt that twist in my stomach again. She had a tongue piercing, a small mouth, and her teeth bit me roughly. At first, it was just a brushing of lips and an innate curiosity to play with the piercing on her tongue. The truth was that I had always wanted to kiss someone with a piercing there, or in some other place. Patrick always had a dislike for piercings and tattoos. And the rest of my relationships were too brief. And I was too prudish for a long time before meeting Patrick to embark on the hummingbird's journey; going from one adventure to another. The contact with the metal felt cold despite her warm breath. At the same time, knowing that such a sensitive area of her body was adorned invited me to keep kissing her and delicately sucking on the silver bar. So I did, and that only sparked new sensations in my body. I could kiss her until we got really turned on or let it all end with that kiss, and the second her lips separated from mine, I realized I wanted to keep kissing her.
I think now is a good time to ask for your name, and if you're interested, I can tell you mine - she whispered sweetly as her voice became more fluent and delicate. The cold sensation had disappeared from my skin. The warmth of her lips penetrated me too deep.
Oh my goodness - I said embarrassed - What's your name? - I whispered with a slight tingling in my cheeks.
Cristina.
Cristina? - I chuckled.
Yes - she smiled kindly - Although my friends call me Mel.
God, I understand why they call you Mel - She laughed - You don't like the name Cristina? - She asked cautiously.
I like a song by Cristina Aguilera if that makes you feel better - I confessed, looking at her intently, feeling like my gaze was piercing through hers, and my thoughts and desire for her were woven into her voice.
Which song? - She wanted to know, I could sense the anticipation in her voice. My companion suddenly seemed shy and nervous.
Dirty…
I figured… - she said as if she could understand my taste for women, fire, and sensuality.
Well, I also like Pero Me Acuerdo de Ti - I added, letting her know that I also had a romantic side.
Why don't you like Cristinas? - She asked.
Well… all the Cristinas I have met have been extraordinarily fake. And I tend to associate people with their name, at least that way I know what to expect from them.
Oh! Well, I'm not like that, I'm as sweet as honey.
And that's why they call you Mel?
Exactly, that's why they call me Mel. Mel as in honey. In fact, you're probably the only one in this place who knows my real name, everyone thinks my name is Milton.
Umm, Milton? I like Milton - I affirmed - but I prefer your honey flavor - I admitted with a mischievous tone. She gently took my chin and caressed my lips with her thumb, then kissed me again. Apparently, that first kiss had made her feel comfortable enough to steal more kisses from me, or she had simply assumed that I was an easy girl. I didn't care what she thought, and I stopped analyzing everything. I kissed her again, surrendering to how easily I had become, and this time we stopped kissing when my breath began to grow uneven. And the dealer wants you thinking that is either black or white.
Your flavor is sweet, your kisses are soft - she said, smiling. I stared at my legs with an expression of joy. Her physical attraction left me captivated, and knowing that she was genuinely beautiful and desired me pleased me. I held my chin in the palm of my hand and stared at her intently. She blinked, dazzled, and I looked at her mischievously while feeling my hair being vigorously blown by the breeze.
What's your name? - she asked, running her fingers through my hair before I could answer.
That's the worst thing someone has told me after a kiss - I admitted in a whisper. We both laughed - My name is Dassy - I announced, brushing my hair away from between her fingers - but my friends call me Ann.
You don't like your name either?
Yes, I love it. But it reminds me of the unfortunate Russian princess never found… when they call me that - I said slowly - and it reminds me of my ex - I added, taking a pause - he always called me by my full name. He would say Dassy… - I admitted, feeling a suction growing in the pit of my stomach as I finished pronouncing the next phrase - or Bicho.
Bicho? - She shook her head with a furrowed brow - Why did he call you that?
I don't know - I admitted, biting my lip, then felt a pain in my chest at the realization that I wanted to know that answer. That was a question I would never be able to ask him - I never asked him - I admitted, shrugging my shoulders.
In the Disney movie, the princess was called Daisy… - She said, raising an eyebrow.
Yes, I know… sometimes they call me Daisy and it's cute.
Well, I'll call you Daisy.
Are you sure you'll call me Daisy? I mean… I've only just met you today - I moved my mouth like a fish searching for food among the algae.