Addicted2Girls
Mischa Brooks, Lola Foxx Pic(s)
The amber glow of the metropolis bled through the slats of the blinds, painting tiger stripes across the rumpled sheets where our bodies lay entwined. Her scent, a intoxicating blend of night air and warm skin, filled my lungs with every breath I took, a perfume more potent than any memory. My fingers traced the delicate architecture of her spine, feeling the subtle shift of vertebrae beneath the silk of her skin, a landscape I was learning by heart. A soft sigh escaped her lips as my touch drifted lower, a sound that seemed to harmonize with the distant, humming pulse of the city below. I watched the light catch the fine hairs on her arm, turning them to filaments of gold, and felt an ache of tenderness so profound it stole my breath. She turned her head, her dark eyes meeting mine in the semi-darkness, holding a universe of unspoken understanding and raw, hungry promise. The taste of her kiss was still on my tongue, a lingering sweetness of wine and something uniquely, essentially her. Our legs were tangled together, a seamless knot of warmth and belonging, anchoring us in this quiet sanctuary high above the waking world. In that suspended moment, with the cool cotton beneath us and the heat of her body agat mine, nothing existed beyond the four walls of our shared intimacy.
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