Evilangel
Kali Roses, Seth Gamble Pic(s)
A heated flush crept up her neck as the circle of eager faces closed in, their collective breath a palpable force agat her skin. The air thickened with anticipation, a heady mix of sweat and perfume that made every inhalation a dizzying affair. His gaze, dark and demanding, held hers captive as his hands, strong and sure, guided her to her knees on the plush carpet. The first touch was electric, his hardened length a smooth, warm weight agat her parted lips, and she welcomed him with a soft, yielding sigh. The rhythm began, a slow, deliberate cadence that built with the murmured encouragements from the onlookers, each thrust a promise and a surrender. Her world narrowed to the slick friction, the salty taste of him, and the building pressure low in her own belly, coiling tight like a spring. A guttural groan ripped from his chest, the signal of his climax, and she felt the first hot, pearlescent streak paint her cheek with startling warmth. More followed, a possessive, liquid claim that splashed across her skin, marking her with his release as the room erupted in a chorus of approving whispers. She remained there, breathless and glistening, the evidence of their shared transgression cooling on her flushed face, a silent testament to the power of the moment.
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