Puretaboo
Aliya Brynn, John Strong Pic(s)
The air in the room was thick with the scent of their mingled sweat, a primal perfume that clung to the damp sheets. His fingers traced a slow, deliberate path down the curve of her spine, each vertebra a tiny mountain under his exploring touch. A low, guttural sound escaped her lips as his palm flattened agat the small of her back, pressing her deeper into the mattress. The only light came from a streetlamp outside, casting long, dancing shadows that made their entangled limbs seem like a single, shifting creature. She arched agat him, her nails lightly scoring his shoulders in a silent language of need. His mouth found the frantic pulse at the base of her throat, his tongue a hot, wet brand agat her sensitive skin. Every sense was heightened, from the coarse texture of the wool blanket beneath them to the taste of salt on his lower lip. This was not gentle lovemaking but a raw, hungry claiming, a desperate attempt to quiet the roaring chaos ide them both. In the breathless stillness that followed a particularly sharp cry, the world outside ceased to exist, leaving only the electric hum of their unfinished business.
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