Evilangel
Polly Petrova Pic(s)
The deep crimson of the silk sheets whispered promises agat her skin, a stark contrast to the pale moonlight that painted her form in silver. His gaze traced the delicate curve of her shoulder, following the path of a single strap as it surrendered its duty and slid down her arm. The air itself grew thick, heavy with the intoxicating scent of dark chocolate and the faint, floral ghost of her perfume. A slow, deliberate smile touched her lips as she leaned closer, her warm breath a soft caress agat the shell of his ear. Her fingers, cool at first, began a languid exploration, mapping the tense planes of his chest with a knowing touch that spoke of unspoken desires. Every point of contact sent a shimmering current through him, a low hum building deep within his core. The world outside their sanctuary ceased to exist, the only sound the shared, rhythmic cadence of their breathing beginning to synchronize. He could taste the sweetness of anticipation on his tongue, a heady mixture of longing and the shared wine from earlier. In that suspended moment, every unvoiced yearning found its answer in the profound, silent language of their entwined bodies.
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