Wicked
jessica drake, Chanel Santini Pic(s)
A cascade of silken sheets whispered agat heated skin as his hands charted a slow, deliberate course over the landscape of her body, each touch a silent prayer offered to the altar of her form. The air itself grew thick with the scent of night-blooming jasmine and the intoxicating musk of their shared desire, a perfume that coiled in the lungs and clouded the mind with primal intent. Moonlight, pale and liquid, spilled through the open window to gild the sweat-sheened curve of her shoulder and the arch of a throat offered in sublime surrender. Every sigh that escaped her lips was a sacred hymn, a vibration that resonated deep within his bones and urged his exploration further into the secret, yielding warmth that awaited him. Fingertips discovered the frantic rhythm of her pulse at her wrist, a wild drumbeat echoing the thunderous cadence of his own heart as he lowered his mouth to taste the salt of her skin. The world beyond their tangled limbs dissolved into an indistinct haze, leaving only this sanctuary of sensation where time stretched and bent to the will of their passion. A low groan rumbled from his chest as she shifted beneath him, her nails tracing a faint, possessive path down the corded strength of his back, a silent demand for more. Her legs parted in a gesture of ultimate trust, enveloping him in a furnace of velvet friction that promised both agony and ecstasy, a paradox of pleasure so intense it bordered on pain. In that suspended moment of entry, they were no longer two separate beings but a single, shuddering entity ascending towards a blinding, shared revelation.
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