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Charlotte Cross, Katie Morgan Pic(s)
The soft glow of candlelight danced across her skin, tracing the delicate curve of her shoulder as she leaned closer, her breath a warm whisper agat my neck. Her fingers traced invisible patterns along my collarbone, each touch sparking trails of fire that spread through my trembling frame. I could smell the faint scent of jasmine in her hair as it brushed agat my cheek, a fragrant curtain enclosing us in our private world. Her lips found mine in a slow, exploratory kiss that tasted of wine and longing, speaking volumes without uttering a single word. My hands slid up her back, feeling the powerful muscles shift beneath silken skin as she pressed agat me. Every sigh that escaped her lips seemed to harmonize with the racing rhythm of my heart, creating a symphony of desire that filled the quiet room. She lowered me onto the velvet cushions, her eyes holding mine with an intensity that stripped away all pretense and hesitation. The world beyond our embrace faded into ignificance as her mouth began a leisurely journey down my throat, each kiss a promise of pleasures yet to unfold. In that suspended moment between breaths, I surrendered completely to the exquisite language her body was teaching mine, every nerve ending awakening to the poetry of her touch.
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