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Prinzzess, Abigail Mac Pic(s)
Her breath hitched as a knowing hand traced the curve of her hip, a slow, deliberate path that mapped the territory of her surrender. Fingertips, calloused from work or perhaps from life, whispered over the sensitive skin of her stomach, leaving a trail of invisible fire in their wake. A soft moan escaped her lips, not a sound of practiced seduction, but a raw, unbidden admission of the pleasure coiling deep within her. The other woman’s lips found the frantic pulse at the base of her throat, not with a gentle kiss, but with the hungry pressure of someone who had been waiting a very long time. The scent of their mingled sweat, salty and intimate, filled the small space between their bodies, a primal perfume that spoke of shared heat and mounting urgency. She arched her back, pressing herself more fully into the touch, a wordless plea for the exploration to continue, for the boundaries to be erased. The weight of a thigh settled firmly between her own, a solid, grounding pressure that promised friction and release in equal, aching measure. In the dim light, she saw a flicker of something fierce and untamed in her lover’s eyes, a look that was far from gentle but held a devastating honesty. This was not a performance of grace, but a clumsy, desperate collision of two souls stripping away pretense to find the raw, trembling truth beneath.
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