Puretaboo
Christie Stevens, Alex Legend, Jason Moody Pic(s)
The air in the room was thick with the scent of jasmine and salt, a heady perfume that clung to their heated skin. His calloused palm traced the delicate curve of her spine, a slow, deliberate journey that made her shiver agat the crisp linen of the unfamiliar sheets. Every whispered confession was a secret shared only with the moonlight filtering through the blinds, painting their entangled limbs in stripes of silver and shadow. She could feel the frantic rhythm of his heart echoing her own, a wild drumbeat syncopated agat the distant, steady hum of the city they had betrayed. His mouth found the sensitive hollow of her throat, and the taste was one of stolen moments and reckless abandon, a flavor more intoxicating than any wine. The ghost of another’s touch, a memory of a different, more familiar love, flickered and died in the furnace of this new, urgent hunger. Fingertips explored forgotten geographies of flesh, mapping constellations of desire that burned brighter with every shared, shuddering breath. In this clandestine space, time itself seemed to warp, stretching each second into a small eternity of pure, unadulterated sensation. This was a covenant written not with words, but with the silent, desperate language of bodies speaking a truth too dangerous for the daylight.
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