Addicted2Girls
Marie McCray, Bailey Blue Pic(s)
Her breath hitched as a warm palm slid up the curve of her thigh, the touch a silent question answered by the arch of her back. Fingertips traced the delicate line of her hip, a slow, deliberate exploration that made her skin hum with anticipation. She turned her head, their eyes meeting in the dim light, a universe of unspoken desire passing between them before their lips finally met. The kiss was not hungry, but deep and searching, a languid dance of tongues that tasted of shared secrets and wine. A soft moan escaped her throat as a hand cupped her breast, a thumb brushing over the peak until it tightened into a hard bud of sensation. The scent of their arousal, musky and sweet, filled the air around them, a perfume more intoxicating than any flower. She let her own hands wander, mapping the smooth plane of a stomach, feeling the quickening pulse at the base of a throat. Every nerve ending felt alive, electric, as a mouth descended, leaving a trail of fire along her collarbone, each kiss a promise of what was to come. They moved together in a rhythm as old as time, a seamless merging of bodies where whispers of affirmation mingled with the sound of ragged, shared breath, building towards a silent, shattering crest.
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