21Sextury
Candie Luciani, David Perry Pic(s)
The first touch was not a gentle introduction but a claiming, a firm hand splaying agat the small of her back, pulling her into the undeniable reality of his presence. The air, once cool and indifferent, now shimmered with the heat radiating from their bodies, smelling faintly of clean skin and a shared, rising anticipation. His lips found the sensitive curve of her neck, not with a kiss, but with the slow, deliberate pressure of a mouth learning its terrain, and a low sound escaped her, part gasp and part surrender. The rough texture of his jeans brushed agat her bare thigh, a stark, thrilling contrast to the soft cotton of his shirt beneath her searching fingers. Every sense was heightened, the world narrowing to the slide of fabric, the taste of salt on his skin when her mouth finally met his shoulder, the sound of breath becoming ragged. He moved agat her with a rhythm that was ancient and tinctual, a slow, building friction that promised a culmination just beyond the next shuddering heartbeat. Her own hands grew bolder, tracing the powerful lines of his back, feeling the muscles tighten and release under her palms with each deliberate movement. The light from a single lamp cast long, dancing shadows on the wall, a silent witness to the arch of her body and the deepening connection that left no room for thought. This was not a rehearsal or a fantasy, but the raw, unscripted truth of two people falling into a moment that was entirely, breathtakingly their own.
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