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Pristine Edge, Alexis Monroe Pic(s)
The fading afternoon light spilled through the window, catching in the dust motes dancing like tiny diamonds around their still forms. Her fingers, trembling with a delicate reverence, traced the delicate line of a collarbone, feeling the rapid, bird-like flutter of a pulse just beneath the silken skin. A soft sigh escaped parted lips, a whisper of warm breath that ghosted across a flushed cheek, and in response, a hand rose to cradle the curve of a jaw, thumb stroking the plump softness of a lower lip. The scent of jasmine and warm skin filled the air, an intoxicating perfume that made the world beyond their intimate space dissolve into irrelevance. She leaned in, her forehead resting agat the other’s, their eyes closing as the space between them vanished, replaced by the electric heat of their bodies pressing together. A low, throaty murmur vibrated agat her neck, a wordless sound of pure need that sent shivers cascading down her spine. The slow, deliberate exploration of hands learning the landscape of backs and hips became a silent, urgent language, each touch a question and an answer. Every nerve ending felt alive, singing with the exquisite friction of skin agat skin, building a rhythm as ancient as the tides. In that suspended moment, there was only the shared breath, the pounding of two hearts syncing into one frantic, beautiful drumbeat, and the profound, aching rightness of their connection.
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