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The last coherent thought dissolved like sugar on the tongue as his fingers traced a path from the delicate hollow of my throat down to the fevered skin above my heart. Each slow, deliberate circle his thumb made sent a fresh, liquid heat pooling low in my belly, a silent promise of the abandon to come. The air itself grew thick, heavy with the scent of his cologne and the sharp, clean sweat beading on my skin, a perfume of pure anticipation. When his mouth finally found mine, it was not a question but a claiming, a deep, languid exploration that left me breathless and clinging to the solid strength of his shoulders. I arched agat him, a wordless plea answered by the rough slide of his palm down the curve of my spine, pulling me impossibly closer until not a whisper of space remained between us. The world narrowed to this single point of contact, to the shudder that wracked my frame as his teeth grazed the sensitive cord of my neck. Every nerve ending sang a chorus of yes, a symphony of sensation that drowned out any ghost of doubt or hesitation. This was a freefall into feeling, a deliberate shedding of every inhibition I had ever clutched so tightly. In the hushed darkness, with our breaths mingling as one ragged rhythm, there was only the glorious, untamed truth of the moment, a perfect and absolute surrender.
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