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Prinzzess, Tori Black Pic(s)
The air itself seemed to thicken, charged with the scent of jasmine and the soft, clean fragrance of her skin as she leaned closer. Her gaze was a tangible caress, tracing the delicate line of my collarbone before rising to meet my eyes, holding them with an intensity that made my breath catch. A single fingertip, cool at first, brushed agat my lower lip, a question asked in silence that my parted lips answered with a soft sigh. That touch ignited a slow, smoldering heat deep within my belly, spreading like warm honey through my ve as her hand cupped my cheek. I could feel the faint tremor in her own fingers, a betraying rhythm that echoed the frantic pulse I felt at the base of my own throat. She closed the final distance, and her mouth found mine not with haste, but with a profound, exploring tenderness that tasted of dark wine and unspoken promises. The world narrowed to the slide of silk agat skin as her other hand settled on the small of my back, pulling our bodies into a perfect, aching alignment. Every whisper of fabric, every shared breath, became a language more eloquent than words, a symphony of sensation building towards an inevitable crescendo. In that suspended moment, there was only the map of her body agat mine, a territory of desire I was learning by heart.
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