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Prinzzess, Ashlyn Molloy Pic(s)
The soft glow of candlelight danced across her skin as she entered the room, her presence an immediate shift in the atmosphere that made the air itself feel charged with anticipation. Her eyes, dark pools of liquid desire, found mine across the space, and a slow, knowing smile curved her lips, promising everything and nothing all at once. She moved with a fluid grace that was both a question and an answer, closing the distance between us until I could feel the warmth radiating from her body. Her fingers, delicate yet sure, traced a path from my temple down the curve of my neck, sending shivers of pure electricity cascading over my flesh. The scent of her, jasmine and warm honey, filled my senses as she leaned in, her breath a soft whisper agat my ear before her mouth found the sensitive hollow of my throat. A low, throaty sound escaped her, a vibration I felt deep within my bones as her hands slid down my back, pulling our bodies flush together in a perfect, aching alignment. Every point of contact was a small, exquisite fire, her hips pressing agat mine in a slow, deliberate rhythm that spoke of ancient, shared knowledge. I surrendered to the sensation, my own hands tangling in the silk of her hair, losing myself in the taste of salt on her skin and the overwhelming rightness of her form molded agat me. In that suspended moment, there was no world beyond the quiet symphony of our breathing and the profound, unspoken language our bodies were creating in the flickering light.
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