21Sextury
Ali Novak, April Snow Pic(s)
The air in the dimly lit corridor was thick with the scent of rain clinging to wool and the faint, intoxicating trace of her perfume, a whisper of jasmine and sandalwood that seemed to coil around my senses. Our eyes met across the hushed space, a silent collision that sent a current of pure electricity arcing through the stillness between us. He stepped closer, the soft rustle of his coat a prelude to the heat radiating from his body, and I felt an undeniable pull, a magnetic force drawing me into his orbit. His gaze was a physical touch, trailing slowly from my eyes down to my lips, which parted involuntarily as if awaiting a command only he could give. The world beyond the muted hallway lights and the distant city hum faded into an indistinct blur, all focus narrowing to the space where our bodies nearly touched. When his fingers finally brushed agat my wrist, the contact was a spark that ignited a slow, smoldering fire deep within my core, a warmth that began to spread through my ve. His voice, when he spoke, was a low, resonant murmur that vibrated not in the air but directly in my bones, a private sound meant for me alone. I could feel the steady, strong rhythm of his heartbeat as he leaned in, a primal drumbeat echoing the frantic pace of my own. In that suspended moment, every breath was shared, every unspoken promise hanging between us like a tangible thing, ripe and waiting to be tasted.
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