Zerotolerancefilms
Khloe Kapri, Mike Mancini Pic(s)
The air in the room grew thick and heavy, charged with a tension that was both forbidden and intoxicating. His gaze, dark and possessive, held hers captive as he slowly closed the distance between them, the floorboards whispering under his deliberate steps. A single, calloused hand rose to her cheek, the rough texture a stark, thrilling contrast to the softness of her skin, sending a shiver down her spine that had nothing to do with the cool evening air. She could feel the latent strength in his touch, a promise of dominance that made her breath catch in her throat, her heart hammering agat her ribs like a trapped bird. The scent of him, a mix of clean sweat and faint cologne, filled her senses, becoming the only thing she could perceive in that suspended moment. His other hand settled firmly on the small of her back, pulling her body flush agat his, erasing the last pretense of space and propriety. A low, guttural murmur vibrated from his chest into hers, the words lost but their commanding intent crystal clear, demanding a surrender she was aching to give. Every nerve ending in her body was alight, hyper-aware of the heat radiating from him, the solid wall of his chest, the possessive pressure of his fingers. In that silent, breathless exchange of power, a new, unspoken understanding passed between them, rewriting the rules of their world with the simple, undeniable language of desire.
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