Evilangel
Spencer Bradley, Destiny Cruz Pic(s)
The world narrowed to the shared warmth of their skin, a silent conversation spoken in the gentle press of a thigh between hers. Spencer’s breath hitched as Destiny’s lips found the delicate hollow of her throat, a whisper of a kiss that promised everything and demanded nothing. Fingers, trembling with a reverence usually reserved for sacred things, traced the elegant curve of a hip, learning the map of a body they had dreamed of for so long. A low, throaty murmur escaped one, a sound of pure surrender that was swallowed by the other’s eager mouth in a deepening kiss that tasted of salt and longing. The air grew thick with the scent of their arousal, a heady perfume that clung to the sheets and their tangled limbs. Every touch was an exploration, a deliberate and slow unfurling of pent-up desire that made nerves sing and muscles clench with anticipation. She arched into the contact, a silent plea answered by the slow, deliberate stroke of a palm over a fevered breast, stealing the air from her lungs. In the dim light, their eyes met, holding a universe of unspoken understanding as their bodies moved in a rhythm as ancient as the tide. This was not a collision but a merging, a seamless joining of two souls who had finally found their home in the heat of the other’s embrace.
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