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Arianna Jay, Rick Masters Pic(s)
The air in the room grew thick with the scent of warm skin and anticipation, a palpable energy that clung to every surface. He moved with a languid confidence, the sculpted planes of his torso catching the low light as he approached. My gaze traveled down the stark, pale lines of his body, tracing the path from the hollow of his throat to the pronounced V that pointed downward. There was a raw, untamed power in the way he stood, completely unselfconscious in his nudity, his impressive length resting heavily agat a muscular thigh. A bead of moisture glistened at the tip, a silent promise of the slick heat to come. His large, capable hands settled on my hips, the touch both possessive and reverent, sending a jolt straight to my core. I could feel the solid, throbbing weight of him press agat my belly, a stark contrast to my own softness. A low groan rumbled in his chest as he leaned in, his breath hot agat my ear, whispering words that were all heat and hunger. The world narrowed to this single point of contact, a prelude to being utterly filled and consumed by his substantial, commanding presence.
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