Evilangel
Pic(s)
A low, guttural sound escaped her lips, a vibration that began deep within her core and rippled outwards, shaking the very air between them. His fingers, which had been tracing lazy, incendiary patterns on the small of her back, stilled as he felt the tremor pass through her skin. Her body arched agat his, a silent, desperate plea for contact that was both an anchor and a catalyst. The scent of their mingled sweat, salt and something uniquely her, filled his senses as he buried his face in the curve of her neck, inhaling the intoxicating proof of their shared abandon. Every muscle in her thighs tightened, a coiled spring of sensation that threatened to unravel the last vestiges of her control. A flush bloomed across her chest, a warm, pink tide that crept upwards, mapping the frantic rhythm of her heart agat his own. He watched, mesmerized, as her eyes fluttered shut, long lashes casting shadows on cheeks glowing with a heat that had nothing to do with the room’s temperature. It was a surrender, a beautiful, chaotic collapse of restraint that was more powerful than any shouted declaration. The world narrowed to this single, pulsating point of contact, where laughter had transformed into a raw, shuddering release that left them both breathless and utterly connected.
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