21Sextury
Romy Indy, Freya Mayer Pic(s)
The air itself seemed to shimmer with a palpable energy, thick with the scent of exertion and a shared, unspoken intent. His hands, slick with a fine sheen of sweat, found the delicate curve of her waist, their heat branding her skin through the thin fabric of her attire. A low murmur escaped his lips, a vibration that traveled through her spine as he guided her into a deeper, more demanding stretch. Every point of contact felt like a small sun, radiating waves of pleasure that threatened to melt her resolve to focus. Her breath hitched as his fingers traced the powerful line of her thigh, applying a firm, istent pressure that spoke of both control and a deep, simmering admiration. The world narrowed to this single room, to the sound of their ragged breathing syncing into a primal rhythm. She arched agat him, not in resistance but in a silent plea for more, her body becoming a pliant trument under his expert tutelage. A bead of perspiration traced a slow, deliberate path down the hollow of his throat, and she found her gaze locked upon its journey, mesmerized. In that suspended moment, the line between truction and raw, unadulterated desire dissolved into nothingness.
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