Addicted2Girls
Dani Daniels, Romi Rain Pic(s)
The first touch was not a collision but a slow, deliberate convergence, a silent language spoken through skin. His fingers traced the delicate architecture of her collarbone, a whisper of contact that sent a shiver cascading down her spine like a dropped coin ringing on marble. A low sigh escaped her lips, not as a word but as a release of breath she hadn’t known she was holding, a cloud of warmth agat the side of his neck. The air in the room grew thick and honeyed, charged with the scent of their closeness and the faint, clean smell of cotton sheets warmed by their bodies. His palm settled on the curve of her waist, a possessive weight that felt less like taking and more like belonging, an anchor in the rising tide of sensation. She arched into him, her own hands finding the solid plane of his back, learning the landscape of muscle that shifted and tightened beneath her exploring touch. Their mouths met in a second, deeper conversation, a languid exploration that tasted of anticipation and something infinitely sweet. Every movement was a slow, deliberate wave building towards an inevitable shore, a rhythm as ancient as the pulse thrumming beneath their skin. In that suspended moment, the world narrowed to the map of freckles on her shoulder, the sound of a sharp intake of breath, and the profound, unfolding story written in the space between them.
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