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Paige Owens, Lola Fae Pic(s)
The air in the room grows thick with the scent of warmed skin and anticipation, a palpable haze that clings to the two figures entwined on the plush divan. His fingers, calloused and sure, trace a slow, deliberate path from the delicate curve of her ankle up the silken expanse of her inner thigh, feeling the subtle tremor that answers his touch. A soft, breathy sigh escapes her lips as she arches into him, her head tilting back to expose the elegant column of her throat, an unspoken invitation. He answers by lowering his mouth to that vulnerable hollow, his lips not quite kissing, but hovering, sharing the heat of his breath agat her pulse. The rustle of fabric is the only sound as she shifts, her hands moving to clutch at the strong planes of his back, pulling him closer until not a sliver of light exists between them. Every point of contact feels electric, a current of pure sensation that arcs from his chest pressed agat her breasts to the hard line of his thigh nestled between her own. Her eyes, dark and heavy-lidded, lock with his, communicating a depth of longing that words could never adequately capture. He finally closes the agonizing distance, capturing her mouth in a deep, searching kiss that tastes of salt and surrender, a slow, wet melding that promises further exploration. In this suspended moment, the world outside ceases to be, reduced to the shared rhythm of their breathing and the thrilling, inevitable slide towards consummation.
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