21Sextury
Tiffany Tatum, Mona Blue Pic(s)
The space between us hummed with a palpable tension, a magnetic field of pure, unspoken wanting that made the very air feel thick and heavy. Every second stretched into an eternity, each one a tiny agony of anticipation that coiled low in my belly. I could almost taste the sharp, clean scent of his skin on my tongue, a phantom promise that made my breath catch. The low light gilded the sharp line of his jaw, and my fingers itched with the need to trace it, to feel the subtle shift of muscle beneath warm skin. A slow, knowing smile finally curved his lips, a silent command that pulled at something primal deep within me. It was a look that promised the slow unraveling of control, the deliberate dissolution of every careful boundary I had built. My heart hammered agat my ribs, a frantic drumbeat echoing the single, desperate thought screaming in my mind. He took one deliberate step forward, closing the impossible distance, and the world narrowed to the heat radiating from his body. The first touch was not a hand, but his gaze, intense and consuming, and it felt like coming home after a long, cold journey.
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