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Veronica Snow, Janessa Jordan Pic(s)
The air itself seemed to shimmer with a new, intimate heat as her gaze, dark and liquid with intent, finally met the other woman’s across the scant space between them. A single, tentative finger traced the delicate line of a collarbone, a question posed in the silent language of skin, and the answering sigh was a warm confession agat her neck. The scent of jasmine and warm salt bloomed between their bodies as they closed the final distance, a soft gasp escaping when a hip brushed agat a yielding thigh. Her mouth found the frantic pulse at the base of a throat, tasting the metallic hint of anticipation as her hands slid down the graceful curve of a spine. Fingertips discovered the hidden landscape of a shoulder blade, mapping its elegant sweep before venturing lower to the small of a back, pressing their forms into a seamless union. A low murmur, wordless and thick with need, vibrated through them as a palm cupped the heavy warmth of a breast, a thumb circling a peak that hardened tantly to the touch. The world beyond the tangled sheets dissolved into irrelevance, replaced by the symphony of quickening breaths and the soft, slick sound of a kiss deepening into something primal. Every shift, every whispered encouragement, was a deliberate unraveling of restraint, a slow-burning fuse leading towards an inevitable conflagration. In that hushed twilight of tangled limbs and shared breath, they were the only two people existing, a universe contained within the electric touch of seeking hands.
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