Diabolic
Ashley Aleigh, Isiah Maxwell Pic(s)
The silence of the sleeping house was a thick, velvety blanket, broken only by the soft rustle of fabric as she shifted on the plush sofa. A single lamp cast a honeyed glow across her skin, illuminating the graceful curve of her neck as she tilted her head back. His fingers, tracing a slow, deliberate path along her inner thigh, felt like brands of heat through the sheer silk of her stockings. The air grew heavy with the scent of her perfume, a dark blend of night-blooming jasmine and warm skin, making each breath a conscious act of anticipation. A low, throaty murmur escaped her lips as his mouth found the sensitive hollow behind her ear, a sound that seemed to vibrate through the very foundations of the quiet home. Every nerve ending was alive, hyper-aware of the weight of his body beside hers and the promise in his lingering touch. The world outside the window ceased to exist, reduced to the intimate universe contained within this room, this moment. Her heart hammered a frantic rhythm agat her ribs, a wild counterpoint to the slow, sensual exploration of his hands. This was a stolen secret, a deliciously forbidden dance unfolding in the sacred space of another’s domain, charged with a tension that was almost unbearable in its sweetness.
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