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Sarah Vandella, Hannah Hays Pic(s)
The soft glow of the lamplight cast long, dancing shadows across the room, illuminating the curve of her spine as she arched into the touch. Fingertips traced a slow, deliberate path along the ide of her thigh, each touch a silent promise that made her breath catch. A low, throaty murmur escaped her lips as her partner’s mouth found the sensitive skin of her neck, tasting the salt and warmth there. The air grew thick with the scent of jasmine and the intoxicating aroma of their shared desire. Her hands tangled in dark, silken hair, pulling her closer, needing to feel the full weight of their bodies pressed together. Every nerve ending felt alive, electric, as a skilled tongue traced circles around a hardened peak, drawing a sharp, gasping moan. The world outside this intimate space dissolved into nothing, leaving only the feeling of slick heat and the rhythm of their moving hips. She could feel the tension coiling deep within her, a gathering storm begging for release with every thrust and caress. Finally, a cry was torn from her, a raw, unfiltered sound of pleasure as waves of sensation crashed over her, leaving her trembling and utterly spent in the warm, tangled aftermath.
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