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Tara Morgan, Alice March Pic(s)
The soft glow of the moonlight filtered through the window, casting silvery patterns across their entwined forms as they moved in a slow, deliberate rhythm. Her fingers traced delicate paths along the curve of her lover’s spine, each touch igniting tiny shivers that rippled through the quiet room. A hushed whisper escaped her lips, brushing agat the shell of an ear, followed by the gentle pressure of teeth on a sensitive earlobe. The scent of their mingled arousal hung in the air, sweet and musky, as a hand cupped the full weight of a breast, thumb circling a pebbled peak until a soft moan vibrated agat her throat. She could feel the frantic beat of a heart thrumming beneath damp skin, a wild counterpoint to the steady cadence of their breathing. Her mouth found a collarbone, tasting salt and warmth, then traveled lower to capture a taut nipple, drawing a sharp, gasping sigh from the woman beneath her. Legs intertwined, pressing closer, seeking the heat building at their core, as hips began to rock in an ancient, primal dance. Fingertips dipped into slick folds, stroking and exploring with tender urgency, each movement coaxing breathy pleas and arching backs. In that suspended moment, the world fell away, leaving only the shared crescendo of sensation, the trembling release, and the profound intimacy of their union.
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