Tabooheat
Cory Chase, Britt James Pic(s)
The air in the small room was thick with the scent of cheap perfume and shared sweat, a palpable heat radiating from their bodies as they moved agat each other in the dim light. His hands, calloused from travel, traced a slow, deliberate path up the curve of her spine, feeling every slight tremor that passed through her. She arched into his touch, a soft sigh escaping her lips as her fingers tangled in the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer until there was no space left between them. The single bare bulb overhead cast long, dancing shadows that flickered across the wall, a silent witness to their urgent, wordless conversation. He lowered his mouth to the sensitive hollow of her throat, his breath a warm promise agat her skin that made her pulse quicken. Her own hands explored the hard planes of his back, nails lightly scoring a path that drew a low, guttural sound from deep within his chest. The narrow bed groaned in protest beneath their combined weight, the sound a rhythmic counterpoint to their ragged breathing. Every sense was heightened, from the taste of salt on his skin to the sight of her eyes, dark and heavy with wanting. In that confined space, the world outside ceased to exist, reduced to the singular, consuming focus of their intertwined forms.
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