21Sextreme
Sofia Lee, Eddie Pic(s)
The golden bubbles in your crystal flute rise like tiny promises ascending toward the rim, each one bursting with the faintest sigh agat the warm, expectant air. My fingers trace the delicate stem as I watch you across the dimly lit room, your gaze a palpable weight that warms my skin more than the low fire crackling in the hearth. The scent of your expensive cologne, a blend of sandalwood and spice, wraps around me like an invisible caress, a fragrant prelude to the evening you have so meticulously planned. I feel the soft, plush carpet beneath my bare feet as I take a step closer, the silk of my dress whispering secrets agat my thighs with every slight movement. Your eyes, dark and knowing, drink me in, and a slow, confident smile plays upon your lips, promising indulgences far beyond the material gifts waiting nearby. The low, thrumming bass of the music seems to vibrate up through the floor, a steady pulse that matches the quickening rhythm I feel deep within my core. You extend a hand, and my own slides into its warmth, your thumb stroking a slow, deliberate circle into my palm that sends a shiver racing up my arm. In this suspended moment, the world outside this opulent sanctuary ceases to exist, leaving only the charged space between us, thick with anticipation and the heady aroma of celebration. Every carefully chosen detail, from the chilled champagne to the way you look at me, is a testament to your desire, a lavish gift I am more than ready to unwrap.
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