Evilangel
Riley Reid, Manuel Ferrara Pic(s)
The humid night air clung to her skin like a second silken layer as she stepped further into the unknown, every sense heightened to a fever pitch. A low, rhythmic thrum seemed to vibrate up from the floorboards, syncing with the frantic beat of her own heart as a shadowed figure emerged from the gloom. His gaze was a physical touch, a slow, deliberate caress that traveled from the hollow of her throat down to the trembling curve of her hip, promising everything without a single word. The space between them crackled with unspoken intent, charged with the sweet, heavy scent of night-blooming jasmine and something uniquely, intoxicatingly male. When his fingers finally made contact, brushing agat the sensitive skin of her inner wrist, it was an electric shock that jolted through her entire being, a spark igniting a dormant fire. He drew her closer, the hard plane of his chest meeting the softness of hers in a collision that stole her breath and made her knees weaken. His mouth found the frantic pulse at the base of her neck, not a kiss but a slow, open-mouthed press of heat that sent shivers cascading down her spine. A low, guttural sound escaped him, a rumble of pure desire that she felt deep within her own core as his hands slid possessively down the small of her back. In that suspended moment, the world outside ceased to exist, reduced to the shared heat of their bodies and the thrilling, terrifying promise of surrender.
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