Girlfriendsfilms
Vera King, Megan Hughes Pic(s)
The air on set was thick with the scent of warm skin and anticipation, a palpable energy that clung to the silk of her discarded costume. Where once there had been a delicate rustle of layered tulle agat her thighs, now only the whisper of the studio lights remained, humming their approval of the exposed curve of her hip. His gaze was a physical touch, tracing the new geography of her body, from the delicate arch of her foot to the gentle swell of her breast rising with each breath. A single bead of sweat traced a slow, deliberate path down the hollow of her spine, a tiny river of sensation that made her shiver despite the heat. He moved closer, the space between them collapsing into a shared warmth, his knuckles brushing the sensitive skin just above her knee in a question. Her response was a soft, yielding sigh, a surrender that parted her lips and invited the taste of him, salt and something darker, more primal. The world beyond the cameras faded into an indistinct blur, the only reality the rough texture of the floor beneath her back and the smooth weight of his hand on her stomach. Every nerve ending felt alive, singing a chorus of need as his mouth found the frantic pulse at the base of her throat, a silent promise of what was to come. In this suspended moment, the only sound was the ragged harmony of their breathing, a prelude to the symphony of touch that would soon consume them completely.
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