21Sextury
Mary Rock, Kai Taylor B Pic(s)
The heavy oak door swung shut with a soft, final thud, sealing out the world as you stepped into the warm, dimly lit foyer. Your gaze met mine, a silent conversation passing between us, stripping away the day’s frustrations before your coat even hit the floor. The air itself seemed to thicken, carrying the faint, clean scent of your skin mingling with the lingering aroma of evening rain. My fingers found the nape of your neck, tracing a slow, deliberate path down the tense line of your spine, feeling the subtle shiver that followed in their wake. A low, appreciative hum escaped your lips as I leaned in, my mouth brushing agat the sensitive hollow just below your ear, tasting the salt of the day’s journey. Your hands came up to cradle my face, their touch at once hesitant and demanding, pulling me closer into the orbit of your warmth. I could feel the steady, accelerating drum of your heart agat my chest, a rhythm answering the one pounding within me. Our breaths tangled, becoming one shared, heated current as I slowly began to unfasten the first button of your shirt, my knuckles grazing the feverish skin beneath. The world narrowed to this single point of contact, a promise of slow, deliberate rediscovery whispered agat your mouth.
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