Wicked
Kenzie Taylor, Ryan Mclane Pic(s)
The air grew thick with the scent of warm skin and whispered promises, a palpable tension coiling in the space between two bodies drawn inexorably together. His gaze, dark and heavy-lidded, traveled a slow, deliberate path from the curve of her shoulder down to the gentle swell of her hip, leaving a trail of heat in its wake. A single finger, calloused yet infinitely gentle, traced the line of her collarbone, feeling the frantic flutter of her pulse just beneath the surface. She arched into his touch, a soft sigh escaping her lips as his palm settled agat the small of her back, pulling her closer until not a sliver of light could pass between them. The rough texture of his jeans was a stark, thrilling contrast to the smooth silk of her inner thigh as his hand slid higher, a silent question answered by the part of her legs. Every nerve ending sang with anticipation, a low thrum building deep within her core as his mouth found the sensitive hollow of her throat. The world narrowed to this single point of contact, the slide of skin on skin, the shared breath that grew ragged and hot. He whispered her name, not as a question but as a statement of intent, the sound a vibration that resonated through her entire being. In that suspended moment, nothing existed but the slow, deliberate dance of desire, a prelude to the exquisite surrender that was to come.
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