Roccosiffredi
Alyssia Kent, Ivi Rein, Rocco Siffredi Pic(s)
The projector’s beam cut through the dusty air of the forgotten room, casting shifting silver light upon their entwined forms. His hands, calloused and sure, traced the delicate map of her spine, each vertebra a pearl discovered in the warm, yielding sand of her skin. A low murmur escaped her lips, not a word but a vibration that hummed agat his chest, a secret language understood only by their pressing flesh. The scent of their mingled sweat, salt and something faintly sweet like night-blooming jasmine, filled the space, a heady perfume marking the territory of their desire. Her back arched as his mouth found the frantic pulse at the base of her throat, a silent, open-mouthed kiss that tasted of shared heat and impending surrender. Fingers tangled in damp hair, not pulling but holding, anchoring each other agat the dizzying current pulling them deeper. The world outside the flickering light ceased to exist, the only soundtrack the ragged symphony of their breathing and the soft, wet sounds of exploration. Every touch was amplified, each shift of a hip, each graze of a thigh, a deliberate and exquisite friction building a shared, tremulous tension. In that suspended moment, they were the only real thing, a single creature unraveling and being remade in the silent, cinematic dark.
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