Glamcore - Scene 4: A Fashionable Affair

Wicked

Alina Ali, Ramon Nomar Pic(s)

The air itself seemed woven from the scent of expensive perfume and the low, anticipatory hum of a hundred whispered conversations. Beneath the cavernous ceiling dripping with crystal, his gaze found her, a vision of sculpted silk that clung to her form like a second skin of liquid silver. Every movement she made was a study in deliberate grace, the fabric whispering secrets agat her thigh as she turned. He watched the way the light caught the sharp angle of her jaw, the subtle pulse at the base of her throat a silent drumbeat answering his own. When his fingers finally brushed agat the small of her back, the heat that passed through the delicate material was an electric promise. A slow, knowing smile curved her lips, her eyes holding his with an intensity that shut out the glittering crowd. He leaned in, his voice a low murmur lost to all but her, the words causing a faint blush to bloom across her decolletage. The world narrowed to the space between their bodies, charged with the unspoken language of want. In that suspended moment, the only thing that mattered was the inevitable closing of that breathless distance.