Evilangel
Oxana Chic, Rocco Siffredi, Raul Costa Pic(s)
The air itself seemed to thicken, charged with the unspoken promise of their first touch. His gaze, dark and intent, traveled the elegant curve of her spine as she turned, a silent question answered by the slight part of her lips. He closed the distance, his hands finding the warmth of her waist, his thumbs pressing gently into the yielding softness there. A shiver, delicate as a whispered secret, coursed through her frame as she leaned back into the solid strength of his chest. The scent of his skin, clean and faintly musky, filled her senses when he bent his head to nuzzle the sensitive hollow of her neck. Her head tilted back in surrender, a low sigh escaping her as his mouth traced a slow, burning path along her shoulder. Her own fingers lifted, tangling in the dark silk of his hair, pulling him closer, deepening the connection. Every movement was a languid, deliberate exploration, a dance of give and take that spoke of a deep, mutual hunger. In that suspended moment, the world narrowed to the shared heat of their bodies and the accelerating rhythm of two hearts beating as one.
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