Evilangel
Gianna Dior, Rob Piper Pic(s)
The air in the room was thick with the scent of their union, a primal perfume of sweat and anticipation. His powerful form hovered over her, a silhouette of sculpted obsidian agat the dim light, every corded muscle taut with controlled need. A low, guttural groan escaped his lips as he watched her body arch to meet his, her pale skin glowing like moonlight agat his dark, powerful frame. Her breath hitched, a sharp, pleading sound that was lost in the crushing pressure of his hips meeting hers, a perfect, desperate fit. The world narrowed to the slick, rhythmic sound of their joining, a wet, intimate music that echoed the frantic beating of their hearts. He drove into her with a deep, claiming finality, burying himself to the hilt as her internal muscles fluttered and clenched around his throbbing length. A shuddering cry was torn from her throat, a raw, unfiltered release of pleasure as she felt the hot, liquid proof of his climax flood her deepest core. Waves of intense sensation radiated from her center, a warm, claiming heat that left her trembling and utterly filled. In the heavy, breathless silence that followed, they remained locked together, a single, spent entity basking in the profound, physical truth of their connection.
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