Puretaboo
Ashley Aleigh, Lucas Frost Pic(s)
A low growl rumbled in the darkness, a primal sound that was both threat and promise as his teeth grazed the pale column of her throat. The sharp pressure was a delicious counterpoint to the soft warmth of his body pinning hers agat the cool wall, a duality of sensation that made her breath catch. She could feel the frantic beat of her own pulse where his lips hovered, a frantic drumbeat agat the deliberate stillness of his hold. His hand slid from her wrist to tangle in her hair, tilting her head back to expose more of her neck to the dim light and his hungry gaze. The scent of him, clean sweat and night air, filled her lungs, an intoxicating perfume that made her dizzy with want. This was not a surrender but a challenge met, a silent agreement forged in the tense space between their bodies. Her own fingers dug into the hard muscle of his shoulders, not to push away but to pull him closer, to demand the culmination of this exquisite tension. The air crackled with unspoken words, every shift and sigh a language more eloquent than speech. In that suspended moment before the yielding, she met his fierce gaze with one of her own, a silent vow to give as good as she got.
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