Addicted2Girls
Ashley Storm, Missy Sweet Pic(s)
The first touch was not of skin but of breath, a warm exhalation that ghosted across the nape of his neck, sending a cascade of shivers down the ladder of his spine. He leaned back into the solid warmth behind him, the fine wool of a sweater yielding to the pressure, and a strong arm encircled his waist, pulling their bodies into a seamless alignment. A calloused thumb began a slow, hypnotic rhythm agat the soft fabric covering his stomach, a silent language of promise that made his own breath catch. He tilted his head, offering the vulnerable column of his throat, and was met with the press of lips, not demanding but tasting, a gentle exploration of salt and pulse. The scent of clean soap and the faint, earthy undertone of the city night clung to them both, creating an intimate perfume that was theirs alone. Fingers traced upwards, skirting his ribs, leaving a trail of invisible heat that bloomed beneath the surface of his skin. A low murmur vibrated agat his shoulder, a sound felt more than heard, a rumble that resonated deep within his own chest, harmonizing with his quickening heartbeat. He turned within the circle of that embrace, their faces now inches apart, the world narrowing to the dark pools of his lover’s eyes, which held a reflection of his own raw yearning. In that suspended moment, before their mouths finally met, the universe consisted only of this shared, aching anticipation, a silent symphony of desire poised on the precipice of fulfillment.
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