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Avi Love, Cecilia Lion Pic(s)
The air, thick with the scent of jasmine and warm skin, grew heavy with a sudden, unspoken tension. Her fingers, which moments before had traced delicate constellations along the ide of a thigh, now hesitated, their tender journey interrupted by a subtle flinch. A soft gasp, not of pleasure but of surprise, escaped parted lips as the atmosphere shifted from intimate to uncertain. The gentle pressure of a palm agat a hip, meant to draw bodies closer, was met with a stiffening resistance that spoke volumes in the quiet room. The warmth that had bloomed between them now felt suffocating, a shared heat that had curdled into awkwardness. Eyes that had been locked in a gaze of deep longing now darted away, searching the shadows for an escape from the crumbling moment. The whispered promise of passion died on the tongue, replaced by the taste of metallic regret and a future that would not be. Every carefully built sensation began to unravel, leaving behind a hollow ache where connection had briefly flourished. The silence that fell was no longer comfortable, but a chasm filled with the echoes of a desire that had faltered at its peak.
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