Devilsfilm
Kenzie Reeves, Isiah Maxwell Pic(s)
The late afternoon sun slanted through the blinds, striping the quiet office in bars of molten gold and deep shadow. He moved behind her chair, his hands settling on her shoulders with a firm, knowing pressure that made her breath catch. The scent of his cologne, a clean mix of spice and warmth, enveloped her as his fingers began to knead the tension from her neck. A soft sigh escaped her lips, her head tilting back to rest agat the solid plane of his stomach. His touch drifted lower, tracing the line of her spine through the thin silk of her blouse, each deliberate movement sparking a trail of heat. She could feel the steady, strong beat of his heart agat her shoulder blade, a rhythm that seemed to sync with her own quickening pulse. One hand slid around her waist, pulling her gently back into the cradle of his hips as his other hand cupped her jaw, turning her face up to his. His eyes, dark with intent, held hers for a long moment before his mouth descended, not in a rush, but with a slow, claiming possession that tasted of coffee and promise. The world outside the glass walls faded into an indistinct hum, the desk no longer a barrier but an altar for this silent, urgent communion.
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