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Payton Preslee, Oliver Davis Pic(s)
Her desire was a slow, molten heat pooling low in her belly as her gaze traced the intricate ink that snaked across his shoulders, each line a promise of hidden depths. The cool metal of her piercings brushed against her skin, a secret thrill that sharpened her longing for the warmth of his touch. She felt the weight of her own curves, a powerful, feminine presence that she knew he craved, and the air between them grew thick with unspoken passion. His hands, large and sure, found the small of her back, drawing her closer until the scent of his skin, musk and salt, filled her senses with a dizzying pleasure. A low, guttural sound of appreciation rumbled from his chest, and the vibration traveled through her, igniting a fire that raced along every nerve ending. She watched his gaze drop, a possessive hunger flickering in his eyes as they lingered on the full swell of her breasts, and a flush of heady satisfaction warmed her cheeks. The anticipation was a physical ache, a sweet torment that made her knees weak as she slowly lowered herself, her fingers tracing the firm muscles of his abdomen. She felt his powerful length against her cheek, a tangible proof of his own burning desire, and the connection between them became an electric current of raw, unfiltered need. Her lips parted, and the first touch of her mouth against his heated skin was a whispered prayer, a surrender to the exquisite ache that consumed her. A shudder of pure pleasure rippled through him, his hand fisting in her hair, as she gave herself over to the intoxicating rhythm of their shared, silent hunger.
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