Addicted2Girls
Vanna Bardot, Aria Lee Pic(s)
The air in her room was thick with the scent of jasmine and something uniquely her, a musk that made my head spin as I crossed the threshold. Her fingers, cool at first, traced a path from my wrist to the ide of my elbow, a silent question that my body answered with a shiver. Our lips met not with hesitation but with a hunger I had only ever dreamed of, a deep, exploring kiss that tasted of mint and secrecy. The soft cotton of her shirt yielded beneath my touch, revealing skin so pale it seemed to glow in the dim lamplight. I learned the landscape of her with my mouth, the delicate curve of her collarbone, the surprising softness of her stomach, each discovery a whispered confession. A low, throaty moan escaped her as my hand slid lower, finding the damp heat waiting for me beneath the lace. The world outside, with its rules and expectations, dissolved into the rhythm of our shared breath and the slick, urgent slide of our bodies. Every touch was a language we were inventing, a map of desire drawn on trembling skin, leading us to a precipice we leapt from together. In the heavy, breathless quiet that followed, tangled in her sheets, I knew our shared silence would be the most intimate secret I would ever keep.
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