Addicted2Girls
Catie Parker, Tara Morgan Pic(s)
A low, guttural sound escaped him as his fingers tangled possessively in her hair, tilting her head back to expose the vulnerable column of her throat to his hungry mouth. The air itself crackled, thick with the scent of their mingled sweat and the sharp, metallic tang of pure, unadulterated want. Her own hands were not idle, nails scraping a desperate, possessive path down the rigid muscles of his back, mapping territory she now claimed as her own. Every point of contact was a small, localized inferno, his hips pressing hers agat the unyielding wall with a force that promised both punishment and pleasure. Their breath came in ragged, synchronized gasps, a frantic duet played agat the pounding rhythm of two hearts threatening to beat right out of their chests. It was a battle with no thought of surrender, only the raw, primal need to consume and be consumed in this volatile fusion. The thin barrier of her clothing felt like an intolerable lie agat the scorching heat of his skin, a fabric soon to be sacrificed to the urgency of this collision. He murmured something dark and unintelligible agat her pulse point, a vow or a threat that sent a violent shiver cascading through her entire frame. This was not a gentle merging but a spectacular, explosive reaction, leaving them both trembling on the precipice of ruinous completion.
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