Diabolic
Sophie Dee, Anita Blue, Reno D’Angelo Pic(s)
The air in the dimly lit cargo bay was thick with the scent of ozone and cold metal, a stark contrast to the sudden, feverish heat blooming between their bodies. His calloused hands, usually so sure and violent when gripping a blaster, now moved with a surprising delicacy as they traced the curve of her hip, his thumb finding the soft, yielding flesh just above the waistband of her flight suit. A sharp, involuntary gasp escaped her lips, the sound swallowed by the low hum of the ship’s engines, a vibration that seemed to resonate deep within her bones. He pressed her back agat a stack of crates, the cool surface a shock through the thin fabric, his own hard frame pinning her not with menace but with a desperate, aching need. Her fingers tangled in the coarse hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him closer until their breath mingled, a shared rhythm of anticipation that made the stars outside the viewport seem to hold their breath. The taste of him was alien, like spiced liquor and the faint, metallic tang of distant worlds, an intoxicating flavor she explored with a slow, deliberate sweep of her tongue. Every nerve ending felt alive, screaming with a raw sensitivity that made the brush of his leather vest agat her bare arm feel like a brand, a promise of possession. A low groan rumbled in his chest, a primal sound that spoke of conquests far more intimate than any galactic manhunt, his hips pressing forward to erase the last sliver of space between them. In that suspended moment, the chase was forgotten, replaced by the far more ancient and urgent pursuit of shared, shuddering release.
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