Roccos Intimate Castings 27

Roccosiffredi

Leyla Fiore, Rocco Siffredi Pic(s)

The heavy velvet curtain fell away, revealing a space where light and shadow conspired to define every curve and plane of the two bodies intertwined upon the low divan. His hands, broad and knowing, traced a slow cartography from the gentle slope of her shoulder down to the subtle flare of her hip, a journey that made her skin shimmer with a fine, anticipatory heat. A low, appreciative murmur vibrated agat her neck as he shifted, the scent of warm leather and clean sweat filling the intimate air between them. Her own fingers tangled in the dark hair at his nape, pulling him closer until their foreheads touched, breath mingling in a shared, silent language of want. The only sound was the soft rustle of fabric as he guided her leg to wrap around his waist, an invitation that arched her spine and pressed her chest flush agat his. Every point of contact felt electric, a current of pure sensation that flowed from the press of his thigh agat her core to the whisper of his lips just below her ear. She could feel the powerful, steady drum of his heart agat her own frantic rhythm, a syncopated beat that promised a rising, inevitable crescendo. His gaze, dark and intense, held hers captive, reflecting the flickering light and a depth of unspoken hunger that made her stomach clench with delicious tension. In that suspended moment, the world outside ceased to exist, reduced to the tactile symphony of skin on skin and the profound, aching need building within their joined forms.