Addicted2Girls
Ashlyn Molloy, Chloe Addison Pic(s)
The morning light streamed through the window, catching the dust motes dancing in the air like tiny, suspended diamonds, and in that soft glow, her fingers traced a path from the delicate curve of a shoulder down to the gentle swell of a hip. A soft sigh escaped her lips, not her own, but the one belonging to the woman whose skin was warming beneath her touch, a landscape of sleep-softened curves and hidden hollows. She leaned in, her breath ghosting across a collarbone, inhaling the intimate scent of shared laundry detergent and the unique, musky sweetness of sleep. The space between them vanished as their bodies pressed together, a silent conversation of shifting weight and yielding flesh, a slow, deliberate exploration that needed no words. Her lips found the pulse point at the base of a throat, feeling the quickening rhythm beneath her mouth, a frantic drumbeat answering the one now thrumming in her own ve. A hand slid upwards, tangling in the silken strands of hair, cupping the back of a head to draw her closer, deepening the connection until their foreheads touched. Eyes, heavy-lidded and dark with wanting, met and held, speaking a language of pure, unadulterated hunger that echoed in the quiet room. Every sense was heightened, from the taste of salt on skin to the sound of a sharp, indrawn breath that broke the stillness, a prelude to a deeper surrender. This was a world built of touch and trust, a slow, burning fusion where two separate beings began to blur into one seamless, breathless entity.
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