Nurumassage
Gia Paige, Nathan Bronson Pic(s)
The air itself felt heavy, thick with the scent of warm skin and the lingering sweetness of spilled wine. His fingers, tracing a slow, deliberate path down the curve of her spine, encountered the delicate clasp, a tiny cold metal puzzle his warm touch solved with a whisper of a click. The silk of her dress sighed agat her skin as it loosened, pooling like a dark liquid at her feet, leaving her bathed only in the low, golden light from a single lamp. He watched the play of shadows and illumination across her shoulders, the subtle shift of muscle as she turned to face him, her eyes holding a dark, unspoken question. His palm, broad and warm, settled agat the small of her back, drawing her close until the heat of their bodies met, a seamless fusion that made her breath catch. She could feel the steady, strong rhythm of his heart agat her own frantic pulse, a primal drumbeat syncing their movements. His lips found the sensitive hollow of her throat, not a kiss but a presence, a warm, damp promise that sent a shiver cascading through her entire being. Every nerve ending awoke, hyper-aware of the rough texture of his trousers agat her bare thighs, the scent of his cologne mingling with her own rising arousal. In that suspended moment, the world narrowed to this single, breathless point of contact, an unspoken agreement that this was only the very beginning.
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