Diabolic
Lacey London, Ray Black Pic(s)
The air in the lecture hall was thick with the scent of old books and anticipation, a heavy silence broken only by the soft rustle of fabric as he shifted in the worn leather chair. His gaze, dark and intent, traced the curve of her spine as she leaned over the podium, the deep plum of her dress clinging to the elegant slope of her shoulders. A single strap slipped slowly downward, a deliberate invitation he accepted with a slow, burning stare that traveled the length of her arm to her delicate wrist. She turned, her eyes meeting his with a knowing spark, a silent conversation passing between them that heated the cool, dusty air. He could almost feel the phantom weight of her thigh agat his own, the imagined warmth of her skin beneath his palm as he envisioned tracing the line of her jaw. Her lips parted in a faint, promising smile, a glimpse of white teeth that sent a jolt straight to his core, tightening every muscle in anticipation. The distance between them seemed to shrink, charged with an electric current of unspoken desire that made the very light in the room feel dense and tangible. He watched the pulse flutter at the base of her throat, a rapid, frantic rhythm that mirrored the wild beating of his own heart, a drumbeat urging him closer. In that suspended moment, the entire world narrowed to the space between their bodies, a universe of promise contained within a single, breathless glance.
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