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Brianna Love, Kaci Starr Pic(s)
The soft glow of the lamplight caught the gentle curve of her smile as she leaned in, her breath a warm whisper agat my neck. Her fingers, delicate yet sure, traced a path from my collarbone down to the sensitive skin just above my heart, sending a shiver that resonated deep within my core. I could smell the faint, intoxicating scent of her perfume, a blend of jasmine and night air, as her lips found the hollow of my throat in a kiss that was both tentative and claiming. The world outside the window ceased to exist, the only sound the quiet rustle of fabric as she slowly guided the strap of my chemise from my shoulder. My own hands rose to meet her, tangling in the silken threads of her hair, pulling her closer until I could feel the frantic rhythm of her pulse matching my own. A low, appreciative murmur escaped her as her palm cupped the weight of my breast, her thumb circling a nipple that hardened tantly under her touch. Every nerve ending felt alive, electric, as if my entire being was focused on the points where our bodies connected. She lowered me back agat the pillows, her gaze holding mine with an intensity that promised both tenderness and abandon. In that suspended moment, the search was over, lost in the profound language of skin and sigh.
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