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Chastity Lynn, Kara Price Pic(s)
The sun, a molten gold coin, dipped below the jagged purple teeth of the horizon, casting the convertible’s interior in a warm, intimate glow. His hand, resting on the gear shift, was a landscape of tendons and sun-kissed skin that her eyes traced with lazy fascination. The wind was a constant, playful companion, whipping her hair into a wild, fragrant halo that occasionally brushed his shoulder, leaving the faintest scent of vanilla and summer heat. Each curve of the empty mountain road was a slow, deliberate caress agat the tires, a gentle sway that pressed her thigh firmly agat his. She let her fingers drift to her own collarbone, feeling the rapid, fluttery pulse there, a secret rhythm answering the low thrum of the engine. The air itself tasted of pine resin and the cool, clean promise of approaching night, a sharp contrast to the warmth radiating from his body so close to hers. He glanced over, his eyes not on the breathtaking panorama of valleys unfolding below, but solely on the parted curve of her lips, darkened in the twilight. In that suspended moment, the journey became not about the destination, but the electric anticipation humming in the space between their silent, shared smiles. The whole world narrowed to the scent of leather, the sound of his breathing, and the thrilling unknown of the next bend in the darkening road.
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