Puretaboo
Eliza Ibarra, Lucas Frost Pic(s)
The air crackled with unspoken tension as his commanding presence filled the room, a palpable energy that made every nerve ending stand at attention. Her breath hitched when his gaze swept over her, those dark eyes stripping away layers of pretense until only raw vulnerability remained. He moved with deliberate slowness, each step a silent promise of dominance that made her pulse quicken in response. Fingers traced the line of her jaw with feather-light precision, igniting trails of fire across her sensitized skin. The scent of his cologne wrapped around her senses, notes of sandalwood and leather weaving an intoxicating spell in the confined space. She felt the cool wall agat her back as he pressed closer, his body radiating heat that seeped through the thin fabric of her dress. His whisper agat her ear carried the weight of command, syllables dripping with unspoken intentions that coiled low in her belly. Every subtle shift of his powerful frame communicated control, a dance of wills where she willingly surrendered to his guidance. In that suspended moment, the world narrowed to the electric space between their bodies, where authority and submission forged a breathtaking equilibrium.
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