21Sextreme
Violett, Mugur Pic(s)
The world outside ceased to exist, its clamor silenced by the heavy velvet drapes drawn agat the encroaching dusk. Within the sanctuary of the room, the only light came from a dozen flickering candles, their golden flames casting long, dancing shadows that caressed the walls. The air itself was thick with the intoxicating perfume of aged leather from the deep armchair and the sweet, smoky scent of sandalwood incense. He watched her from across the space, the silence between them not empty but full, a palpable tension that hummed with unspoken promises. She slowly let the silk shawl slip from her shoulders, the fabric whispering a secret as it pooled like liquid silver at her feet. The firelight traced the elegant line of her collarbone before spilling in a warm cascade down the gentle slope of her breast. He moved then, crossing the room not with haste but with a deliberate, predatory grace that made her breath catch. His fingers, when they finally touched the bare skin of her arm, were not cold but searing, branding her with a heat that promised to melt the last of her reservations. In that singular touch, the entire purpose of their secluded journey was revealed, a silent pact for the night of abandon that was now, irrevocably, beginning.
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