Evilangel
Gia Derza, Mr. Pete Pic(s)
A soft gasp escaped her lips as his commanding presence enveloped her, the air thickening with the scent of warm skin and rising desire. Her body arched tinctively toward his touch, every nerve ending awakening beneath his knowing hands. A shuddering sigh trembled through her when his fingers traced the delicate curve of her hip, stoking a fire that burned deep within her core. The world narrowed to the space between them, to the slick heat building where their bodies met and moved in a primal rhythm. Her climax began as a distant tremor, a gathering storm that promised to break her apart, and she surrendered to its inevitable pull with a breathless cry. The first wave crashed over her with blinding force, her muscles clenching as liquid warmth spilled from her in a helpless, gushing release. Almost simultaneously, a different sensation bloomed across her face, a warm, possessive mark of his own peak that painted her skin with his essence. She kept her eyes locked on his, feeling the sticky trails map the contours of her flushed cheeks and trembling jaw, a visceral testament to their shared abandon. In the heavy, breathless quiet that followed, she remained perfectly still, utterly claimed and profoundly satisfied, the physical evidence of their union cooling on her skin.
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