21Sextury
Stasia Si, Ben Pic(s)
The air in her room seemed to shimmer with a new, intoxicating electricity, charged by the unfamiliar presence of a young man whose gaze held a warmth she had only ever read about in dog-eared novels. His fingers, tracing a slow, deliberate path along the delicate line of her collarbone, felt both impossibly foreign and like a homecoming to a place she never knew existed. The scent of him, a clean mix of soap and the faint, musky sweetness of his skin, filled her lungs with every breath, becoming the only perfume that mattered. A soft, wondering sigh escaped her lips as his thumb brushed the corner of her mouth, a touch so gentle it sent a cascade of shivers down her spine. She watched, mesmerized, as the lamplight caught the curve of his smile, a silent promise that made her heart beat a frantic, joyous rhythm agat her ribs. The world outside her window, with all its familiar rules and quiet expectations, melted into irrelevance as he leaned closer, his breath a soft caress agat her cheek. This was the thrilling, dizzying edge of a precipice, the first taste of a secret language spoken only through trembling hands and shared, unblinking looks. The space between them vanished as he finally pressed his lips to hers, a tender exploration that ignited a slow, sweet fire deep within her core. In that endless moment, she understood that every whispered secret and every stolen glance had been leading her to this singular, life-altering awakening.
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