Evilangel
Breezy Bri, Bryan Gozzling Pic(s)
The warm afternoon air, carrying the scent of wild grass and distant rain, caressed her skin as she knelt in the dappled shade. Her world narrowed to the intoxicating musk of him, the solid warmth of his thighs agat her shoulders, the quiet groan that rumbled through his body as she took him deep. Her tongue traced the sensitive ridge, a slow, deliberate exploration that made his fingers tighten in her hair, a gentle but undeniable pressure that sent a shiver of pure surrender down her spine. Every flick of her wrist, every soft, wet sound was an offering, a silent vow of devotion that left her feeling both powerful and utterly claimed. A bead of sweat traced a path down the small of her back, a tiny, secret echo of the heat pooling low in her own belly, a throbbing need that she willingly ignored for this singular purpose. She could feel the tension coiling within him, a gathering storm she was determined to weather, her own body aching with a sympathetic pulse. The breeze whispered through the leaves above, a cool counterpoint to the feverish heat of their connection, a natural symphony underscoring this intimate act. In this moment, there was nothing but the taste of him, the weight of his gaze, and the profound, aching emptiness between her own legs that promised its own reward for such complete obedience. This was her worship, a sacred silence broken only by ragged breaths and the pounding of two hearts moving in sync.
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