Diabolic
Amari Anne, Jack Blaque Pic(s)
The humid evening air clung to the silent house, a heavy blanket broken only by the soft, rhythmic creak of the floorboards upstairs. He watched from the doorway, his breath catching as she moved through the dim glow of the nightlight, her silhouette a graceful dance agat the pale wall. The dark skin of her shoulders gleamed like polished obsidian, each shift of her body revealing the elegant curve of her spine as she bent to check the sleeping child. A whisper of her perfume, something warm and spicy like sandalwood, drifted across the room and coiled deep in his chest, awakening a primal hunger. Her fingers, long and delicate, gently brushed a curl from the infant’s forehead, a gesture of such tender care that it made his heart ache with a strange, possessive longing. When she straightened and turned, her eyes met his in the semi-darkness, holding a knowing look that was both a challenge and an invitation. The simple cotton of her dress whispered agat her thighs as she took a silent step toward him, the fabric straining subtly over the swell of her hips. He could feel the heat radiating from her body before she was even within reach, a palpable energy that promised to melt the careful distance between them. In that suspended moment, the world outside ceased to exist, leaving only the electric anticipation of a touch yet to come.
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