Brazzers
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The opulent ballroom glittered, a perfect facade for the lavish rehearsal dinner, yet beneath the crystal chandeliers, a secret hummed with electric tension. I, the bride-to-be, smiled demurely for my wealthy, oblivious fiancé, playing my part in the charade with practiced ease. My true attention, however, was perpetually drawn to the stunning, confident woman commanding the room—my wedding planner, the incomparable Reagan Foxx. Her every gesture was a silent promise, a reminder of the intoxicating passion we had secretly shared for months. While my future husband toasted to our picture-perfect life, my mind replayed the stolen moments in Reagan’s private office, far from prying eyes. The scent of her perfume, a sophisticated blend of jasmine and sandalwood, was a ghost on my skin, a constant, thrilling betrayal. She would catch my gaze across the crowded room, her eyes holding a knowing, smoldering look that made my heart stammer violently. Our connection was a dangerous, exquisite flame burning brightly in the shadows of this elaborate society wedding. Tomorrow, I would walk down the aisle, but not towards the man waiting at the altar; my every step would be a silent, desperate vow to her. This entire spectacle was merely our elaborate cover, a final, breathtaking performance before we vanished together into a new, authentic life.
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