Mypervyfamily
Maria Kazi, Brett Maker Pic(s)
The world narrowed to the space between us, a universe contained within the humid air we shared. His gaze was a tangible weight, a slow, deliberate heat that traveled over my skin like a physical caress, leaving a trail of awakened nerve endings in its wake. A low, appreciative sound rumbled from his chest, a vibration I felt more than heard, resonating deep within my own body. My fingers traced the hard line of his jaw, feeling the faint scratch of stubble agat my sensitive fingertips before sliding into the softness of his hair. The scent of him, clean sweat and something uniquely masculine, filled my lungs, an intoxicating perfume that made my head spin. His hands moved with a knowing certainty, palms skimming the curve of my hip, thumbs pressing into the yielding softness of my waist. Every movement was a languid promise, a slow-building rhythm that spoke of endless, unhurried time. A shuddering breath escaped my lips as his mouth found the delicate skin of my throat, his tongue a brand of wet heat that made my knees weaken. This was a symphony of sensation, a continuous, rising crescendo where every touch was both a question and its exquisite, unending answer.
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