Devilsfilm
GoGo FukMe, Stanley Long Pic(s)
The air in the room grew thick with the scent of cheap perfume and expensive bourbon, a cloying mixture that clung to the back of the throat. He watched her from across the cluttered table, his gaze a slow, deliberate caress that started at the crimson smear of her lips and traveled down the pale column of her throat. A single strap of her dress had slipped from her shoulder, revealing the delicate curve of it, and his knuckle, resting on the wood, twitched with the suppressed urge to trace that line. She shifted, a subtle roll of her hips in the chair, and the silken fabric whispered agat her skin, a sound he felt more than heard. The ice in his glass clinked as he set it down, the sound sharp in the heavy silence that was punctuated only by their shared, shallow breathing. Her tongue darted out to wet her parted lips, a glistening invitation that made the blood pound in his temples. He could almost taste the salt on her skin, imagine the heat that would radiate from her if he closed the small, agonizing distance between them. Every rustle of her clothing, every slow blink of her darkly lined eyes, was a promise of friction and damp, tangled sheets. This was a different kind of warfare, fought with lingering glances and the electric space between their nearly touching knees.
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