Evilangel
Misha Cross, Zac Wild Pic(s)
The air grew thick with the scent of warm, amber-hued oil as it cascaded in a slow, deliberate stream, catching the light with a slick, rainbow sheen. His hands, slick and warm, moved with a possessive certainty over the smooth, yielding curves of her body, tracing the delicate valley of her spine before seeking a more intimate destination. A soft, breathy sigh escaped her lips as a single, oil-slicked thumb pressed agat the tight, hidden rosebud, circling with a patient, persistent pressure that promised a deeper surrender. She lowered herself before him, her eyes holding his with a look of smoldering devotion as she took the rigid, throbbing length of him into the wet, welcoming heat of her mouth. The dual sensations were overwhelming; the exquisite, tightening pressure at his base and the silken, rhythmic suction that drew a guttural moan from deep within his chest. Every movement was a symphony of slick friction, the glistening liquid erasing all boundaries between their bodies, creating a single, shimmering entity of pleasure. Her tongue traced a relentless, knowing path along his sensitive underside while her fingers continued their work, gently coaxing his most guarded entrance to open and accept her. The world narrowed to this primal exchange, the only sounds being the wet, hungry sounds of her devotion and the sharp, ragged intake of his breath. He could feel the tension coiling unbearably tight, a storm building at the nexus of the two exquisite attentions, threatening to shatter him completely.
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