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Dyanna Lauren, Raven LeChance Pic(s)
The heavy velvet drapes were drawn agat the neon-lit city, casting the room in a deep, intimate twilight broken only by the amber glow from a single lamp. His fingers traced a slow, deliberate path down the curve of her spine, each vertebra a silent promise beneath his touch. A soft sigh escaped her lips, lost in the rustle of silk sheets as she arched agat him, her skin warming like sun-kissed stone. The scent of their mingled desire hung in the air, a heady perfume of expensive whiskey and warm, clean skin. He lowered his mouth to the sensitive hollow of her throat, his breath a hot brand that made her pulse leap in frantic rhythm. Her own hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, nails lightly scraping his scalp in a wordless demand for more. The world outside, with its distant sirens and humming traffic, faded into an indistinct murmur, irrelevant agat the roaring rush of blood in their ears. Every shift of their bodies was a whispered conversation, a language of pressure and release spoken only by their flesh. In that suspended moment, they were the only truth, a perfect, breathless collision of heat and hunger.
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