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Sydni Ellis, Michelle Aston Pic(s)
The air itself seemed to thicken, charged with the scent of jasmine and the soft, clean fragrance of her skin as she drew nearer. Her fingers, cool and deliberate, traced a path from my temple down to the line of my jaw, tilting my face upwards to meet her gaze. In the dim light, her eyes were dark pools of intent, holding me in a silent, breathless promise. Then her mouth found mine, not as a question but as a slow, deliberate answer to a longing I had not fully voiced. The kiss deepened, a languid exploration of heat and softness that sent a shiver coursing down my spine to settle low in my belly. Her hands slid lower, palms pressing flat agat my back, pulling our bodies into a seamless alignment where I could feel the steady, strong rhythm of her heart. A soft sigh escaped me as her lips left mine to travel along the column of my throat, each kiss a brand of possession that made my skin hum with anticipation. The delicate lace of my chemise yielded to her seeking touch, baring my shoulder to the warm, damp caress of her tongue. Every nerve ending awoke under her patient, knowing attention, building a quiet, urgent tension that coiled tightly within me, begging for release.
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