Evilangel
Mackenzie Mace, Danny Steele Pic(s)
The air crackled with the palpable tension of his unyielding gaze, a silent command that made her skin flush with anticipation. His large, calloused hands began a slow, deliberate exploration, tracing the delicate curve of her spine as if memorizing a sacred text. Each deliberate touch was a brand of possession, a whisper of pure adoration agat her yielding flesh. He lowered his head, his warm breath ghosting over the sensitive skin of her throat before his lips followed in a searing, unhurried kiss. A low, guttural sound of appreciation rumbled in his chest, vibrating through her core as his fingers tangled in her hair, tilting her head back to grant him deeper access. The scent of her arousal, mingled with his own clean, masculine musk, created an intoxicating perfume that clouded his senses and fueled his devotion. His mouth traveled lower, worshipping the swell of her breast with a reverence that was both tender and fiercely claiming. She arched into him, a soft moan escaping her lips as he lavished attention on her pebbled peak, his tongue painting wet, exquisite patterns of desire. In that suspended moment, he was both master and supplicant, utterly lost in the act of honoring every inch of her exquisite form, a living altar to her beauty and his consuming need.
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