21Sextury
Jessika Night, Raul Costa Pic(s)
The key turned in the lock with a sound that sent a jolt straight through me, a promise of what was to come. I barely had time to drop my bag before you were there, your hands finding my waist, pulling me into the warm, familiar scent of your skin. Your mouth met mine not with gentle inquiry but with a deep, claiming hunger that tasted of impatience and dark coffee. My fingers tangled in your hair as you backed me agat the wall, the cool plaster a stark contrast to the heat blooming everywhere we touched. I could feel the hard ridge of your desire pressing agat me, a silent, urgent language my body understood perfectly. Your lips traveled down my neck, each kiss a brand that made me arch agat you, a soft moan escaping my throat. The fabric of my shirt seemed an unbearable barrier, and your hands worked quickly to undo the buttons, your knuckles brushing agat the sensitive skin beneath. A shudder ran through me as you whispered my name, your voice rough with a need that mirrored the frantic beating of my own heart. In that suspended moment, the whole world narrowed to the space between our bodies, charged with an electric anticipation for the delicious friction to come.
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