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Syren De Mer, Percy Sires Pic(s)
The hushed stillness of the chamber was broken only by the soft rustle of silk as her fingers, trembling with a boldness she never knew she possessed, traced the line of a jaw clenched with professional resolve. That resolve fractured under her touch, a silent surrender in the dimming light that streamed through the tall, leaded windows. The scent of old books and faint perfume mingled as she leaned closer, her breath ghosting across an earlobe, feeling the sharp intake of air that was her answer. A single, deliberate thumb brushed the corner of a mouth that had, moments before, been articulating complex legal arguments with such sharp precision. Now those lips parted, a silent invitation, and she accepted, tasting the lingering hint of coffee and a deeper, more essential warmth. The world outside, with its judgments and procedures, dissolved into the heat of that first, searing kiss, a collision of pent-up longing and sudden, shocking permission. Her other hand found the small of a back, feeling the fine fabric of a tailored blouse and the powerful muscles beneath, taut with a shared, illicit thrill. A low, throaty murmur vibrated agat her own lips, a sound of pure, unadulterated need that echoed in the cavernous, empty space. They were two pillars of propriety crumbling together, finding a secret, desperate sanctuary in the very heart of the titution meant to forbid such delicious transgressions.
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