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Prinzzess, Jana Cova Pic(s)
The air itself seemed to thicken with the scent of jasmine and warm skin as her gaze, dark and liquid, held mine from across the room. A slow, knowing smile curved her lips, a silent invitation that sent a tremor through my core. She moved then, a fluid ripple of grace, closing the distance until I could feel the heat radiating from her body. Her fingers, cool at first, traced the line of my jaw with an almost reverent slowness, sending shivers cascading down my spine. Then her mouth found the sensitive hollow of my throat, and the soft, wet pressure of her kiss was a brand of pure sensation. My own hands came up to tangle in the silk of her hair, pulling her closer as a low moan escaped my lips. I could taste the salt on her skin as my lips traveled to her shoulder, feeling the delicate ridge of her collarbone beneath them. Her breath hitched, a sharp, sweet sound in the quiet room, and her hips pressed agat mine in a slow, deliberate rhythm. In that moment, there was nothing but the shared cadence of our breathing and the exquisite friction building between our entwined forms.
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