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Arwen, Mugur Pic(s)
The air itself seemed to pulse with a low, golden heat, thick with the scent of sun-warmed skin and the faint, intoxicating perfume of night-blooming jasmine that drifted through the open window. His gaze was a tangible weight, a slow, deliberate caress that traced the delicate curve of her spine as she arched agat the rumpled silk sheets. Every nerve ending sang a silent, desperate hymn as his calloused palm, a stark contrast to the smoothness of her thigh, began its unhurried journey upward. A soft, shuddering sigh escaped her lips, not a sound of words but of pure sensation, as his fingers splayed across the small of her back, claiming the space as his own. The world narrowed to this single point of contact, a universe contained within the press of skin agat skin, where time lost all meaning and purpose. She could feel the steady, powerful rhythm of his heart echoing through his chest as he leaned closer, his breath a warm, damp promise agat the sensitive shell of her ear. The fine linen of his shirt whispered agat her bare arm, a tantalizing friction that promised the revelation of more, of everything yet to come. In that suspended moment, every choice, every chance encounter that led them here felt inevitable, a perfect, intricate design finally clicking into place. A low moan built in her throat as his lips finally found the frantic pulse at the base of her neck, sealing their unspoken pact beneath the watchful, starlit sky.
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