21Sextreme
Lylyta Yung, Eddie Pic(s)
The tension between them was a palpable force, a thick, heated silence that clung to the air like a second skin. He watched the subtle flutter of a pulse at the base of her throat, a frantic bird trapped in a cage of fine bone and soft flesh. Slowly, deliberately, he closed the small space between them, the warmth of his body radiating agat hers before they even touched. His knuckles, a whisper of rough calluses, grazed the impossibly smooth curve of her jaw, a touch so light it was almost a memory. Her breath hitched, a sharp, audible intake that broke the stillness, and her eyes, dark pools of conflicted desire, fluttered shut. He leaned in, his lips not finding hers, but tead brushing agat the delicate shell of her ear, his exhale a warm, damp promise that coiled deep in her belly. Her hands, which had been clenched at her sides, uncurled, fingers splaying to press agat the solid wall of his chest, feeling the fierce, steady drumbeat of his heart. It was this single, primal rhythm that finally dissolved the last barrier, a wordless communication that spoke of need rather than conflict. A soft, surrendering sigh escaped her lips as she melted into him, her body aligning with his in a perfect, seamless fit that answered every unspoken question.
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