Evilangel
Shalina Devine, Erik Everhard, Vince Karter, Maximo Garcia Pic(s)
The air itself felt thick with a primal electricity, a current that hummed beneath the skin as his gaze, heavy with intent, traced the elegant curve of her spine. Her own anticipation was a living thing, a coiled spring of need that made the fine silk of her chemise feel like a cage agat her overheated flesh. A single, deliberate touch from him, a calloused palm sliding over the swell of her hip, sent a shudder of pure want cascading through her entire being. The scent of her perfume, something dark and floral, mingled with the clean, masculine sweat beading on his chest, creating an intoxicating aroma that was theirs alone. A low, guttural sound escaped his throat as he leaned in, his lips finding the sensitive hollow where her neck met her shoulder, a kiss that was less a caress and more a claiming. Her head fell back in surrender, a soft moan escaping her parted lips as her fingers tangled desperately in his hair, pulling him closer, demanding more. The world outside this room, with its muted lamplight painting their moving shadows on the wall, ceased to exist, reduced to the symphony of ragged breaths and the slick, rhythmic sound of their joining. Every nerve ending was alight, a constellation of pleasure building towards an inevitable, shattering supernova deep within her core. This was not mere passion; it was a raw, unyielding hunger, a force of nature that would not, could not, be sated until both were utterly spent and remade.
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