Roccosiffredi
Soyivania, Vince Karter Pic(s)
The air itself felt heavy, thick with the scent of expensive perfume and the raw, honest aroma of warm skin. A low, appreciative hum vibrated through the room as his gaze traveled over the woman before him, a deliberate and possessive survey that left a phantom heat in its wake. The dim light from a single shaded lamp caught the delicate sheen of perspiration along the graceful curve of her spine, tracing a path downward that invited a slow, following touch. Her hair, a cascade of dark silk, was pushed carelessly over one shoulder, exposing the vulnerable column of her neck, a silent offering he ached to taste. The only sound, beyond their synchronized breathing, was the soft rustle of fabric as she shifted, the movement causing the delicate straps of her lingerie to slide another inch down her arms. He watched the slow, deliberate arch of her back, a gesture of pure, unashamed provocation that made his pulse thrum heavily in his ve. Her lips, painted a deep, forbidden crimson, parted on a silent sigh as his fingers finally made contact, not with skin, but with the intricate lace stretched taut across her hip. The sensation was electric, a sharp intake of breath that was both his and hers, a current of pure anticipation that tightened the very air between them. In that suspended moment, every forbidden promise whispered in the shadows was made tangible, a pact sealed not with words but with the languid, burning language of desire.
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