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Cherie DeVille, Jasmine Jae Pic(s)
The soft glow of candlelight danced across her skin, tracing the delicate curve of her shoulder before disappearing into the shadows of the room. Her fingers traced invisible patterns along my collarbone, each touch sparking tiny currents that traveled deep into my core. The scent of jasmine and warm vanilla filled the space between us, wrapping around our bodies like a silken veil. When her lips finally met mine, the world narrowed to this single point of contact, a perfect fusion of warmth and longing that made my breath catch. I could feel the steady rhythm of her heart beating agat my chest, a primal drum echoing my own frantic pulse. Her whispered words flowed over me like honey, sweet promises that melted agat my skin and seeped into my soul. Every movement became a silent conversation, her hips swaying agat mine in an ancient dance only we understood. The taste of her lingered on my tongue—sweet wine and something uniquely her—an intoxicating blend I knew I would crave forever. In that suspended moment, surrounded by whispers and warmth, I discovered what it meant to be truly found.
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