Evilangel
Kenzie Taylor, Jax Slayher Pic(s)
The room was thick with the scent of sweat and desire, the only light a golden halo from a single lamp that gilded the curve of her back as she arched, a perfect bow of surrender. His hands, dark and strong agat the pale expanse of her hips, held her firmly in place, a gentle but unyielding anchor as he pressed forward with a slow, deliberate pressure that made her gasp. A soft, keening cry escaped her lips as he filled her completely, the initial tightness giving way to a profound, stretching fullness that bloomed into a deep, throbbing pleasure. Each deliberate, rhythmic withdrawal was a sweet agony, a promise of return that left her feeling achingly open and vulnerable before he plunged back into that wet, welcoming heat. Her generous breasts swayed heavily with the steady, driving motion, their peaks taut and begging for a touch that never came, all sensation focused on that primal, intimate connection. The slick, wet sounds of their union were a raw counterpoint to their ragged breathing, a symphony of flesh moving agat flesh in the humid air. She could feel every inch of him, a thick, hard presence that seemed to touch her very core, stretching her limits and unlocking a shocking, visceral ecstasy that made her toes curl. A sheen of perspiration coated their bodies, making their skin slide together as he drove deeper, his pace becoming more urgent, more demanding, pushing her toward a precipice of feeling. In that final, shuddering moment of release, a wave of intense, overwhelming sensation crashed over her, leaving her trembling and utterly spent, her body a testament to the raw, unbridled power of their joining.
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