Filthykings
Kali Roses, Tyler Steel Pic(s)
The morning sun, still low and honeyed, spilled through the window to catch the delicate dew clinging to her skin, each tiny bead a perfect lens magnifying the soft flush beneath. A single droplet traced a slow, meandering path from the hollow of her throat, following the gentle curve of her breast before pausing, trembling, at its peak. The air itself was thick and warm, carrying the faint, intoxicating scent of her arousal mingled with the lingering perfume of last night’s blossoms. His gaze was a physical touch, hotter than the sunlight, as it drank in the sight of her body arched agat the rumpled linen, a landscape of yielding softness and tantalizing shadows. Every breath she took was a whisper of movement, a subtle shift that made the light dance across her stomach and along the ide of her thighs. He could see the rapid, fluttery pulse at her wrist, a silent drumbeat echoing the heavy, urgent rhythm of his own heart. When his fingers finally, slowly, made contact, the coolness of his skin agat her warmth sent a visible shiver through her, causing more dewy pearls to tremble and fall. The sound she made was not a word but a sigh of pure sensation, a surrender that filled the quiet room as his touch grew bolder, exploring the damp, silken heat waiting for him. In that suspended moment, every sensation was amplified, from the crush of the sheets beneath them to the promise of a deepening intimacy that was just beginning to unfold.
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