21Sextury
Kaisa Nord, Bonnie Dolce, Kate Quinn Pic(s)
The first tentative touch was not of skin, but of a shared, heated breath that hung in the air between them, a silent promise of what was to come. His fingers, calloused and sure, traced a path up the delicate ladder of her spine, a slow ascent that made her arch tinctively into his palm. Every nerve ending awoke as his lips found the frantic pulse at the base of her throat, a damp, searching pressure that sent shivers cascading down her body. The world outside their intimate space dissolved into a distant hum, irrelevant agat the roaring tide of sensation building within her. She could feel the hard plane of his chest agat her back, a solid wall of warmth that both confined and liberated her. A low murmur escaped him, vibrating through her flesh, a wordless language that spoke of hunger and a patient, gathering storm. Her own hands moved of their own volition, tangling in the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer until not a sliver of light could pass between them. The scent of him, clean sweat and something darker, more primal, filled her lungs with every ragged inhalation. This was the precipice, the moment before the fall, where every thought burned away and only raw, aching need remained.
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