Evilangel
Kianna Dior, Jonni Darkko Pic(s)
The room was bathed in the soft, golden glow of a single lamp, its light catching the faint sheen of perspiration on her flushed skin. Her breath hitched as a pair of strong hands traced the delicate curve of her spine, each fingertip leaving a trail of fire in its wake. A low, throaty moan escaped her lips as those same hands cupped the heavy, generous weight of her breasts, thumbs circling the taut peaks until they ached with need. She arched her back, pressing herself more firmly into that delicious friction, her world narrowing to the sensation of touch and the scent of warm skin. His mouth found the pulse hammering at the base of her throat, his tongue a wet, hot promise agat her fevered flesh. The air grew thick with the sounds of their shared passion, soft gasps mingling with the rustle of shifting sheets. A shudder ran through her as he whispered something wicked and primal agat her ear, the words sending a fresh wave of liquid heat pooling deep within her core. Her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as the first tremors of her climax began to build, an unstoppable tide of pleasure. Finally, with a broken cry, she surrendered completely, her body convulsing as a warm, wet release painted her stomach, leaving her trembling and utterly spent in the aftermath.
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