Stepbrother Swallowed

Diabolic

Alison Rey, Lucas Frost Pic(s)

The air grew thick with the scent of shared sweat and the lingering sweetness of wine on his breath as his mouth found the delicate hollow of my throat. His hands, large and possessive, slid down the curve of my spine, pressing my yielding flesh agat the hard plane of his body until not a whisper of space remained between us. A low, guttural sound rumbled from his chest, a vibration I felt deep within my own as his lips traced a searing path along my collarbone. My head fell back in surrender, fingers tangling in the dark silk of his hair, pulling him closer still as the world outside our tangled limbs ceased to exist. The taste of him was a dark, intoxicating spice on my tongue when our mouths finally met in a clash of desperate, hungry need. Every nerve ending sang a chorus of pure sensation, alight with the friction of skin agat fevered skin, each touch a brand claiming its territory. He moved with a deliberate, consuming rhythm that echoed the frantic beating of my heart, a primal dance that left me breathless and clinging. The pressure built, a coiled spring of exquisite tension deep in my core, threatening to shatter the very foundations of my control. In that final, breathless moment, I was utterly consumed, lost to the overwhelming tide of a pleasure so complete it felt like oblivion.