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Valentina Nappi, Nikki Daniels Pic(s)
The heavy velvet drapes were drawn agat the encroaching city, creating a sanctuary lit only by the low, golden glow of a single lamp. His fingers, warm and deliberate, traced the delicate ridge of her spine, a slow exploration that made her breath catch in a soft, shuddering sigh. The scent of their mingled skin, of warm linen and something faintly sweet like night-blooming jasmine, filled the still air between them. She arched into his touch, a silent plea for more, her own hands finding the solid plane of his chest, feeling the frantic rhythm beneath her palm. His mouth found the sensitive curve of her neck, not a kiss but a hot, open-mouthed press that sent a jolt of pure lightning straight to her core. The world beyond this room, with its distant horns and hushed footsteps in the hall, ceased to exist, replaced by the universe contained within the slide of silk agat skin. Every whisper, every shared glance, was a language more profound than words, a dialogue of desire that built with each passing second. The large bed, with its cool sheets, awaited them, a promise of the deepening intimacy to come. In this hushed cocoon, time itself seemed to slow, stretching each sensation into an eternity of aching, exquisite anticipation.
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