Burningangel
Harlowe Blue, Ramon Nomar Pic(s)
The first cool splash broke across her skin like a whispered promise, sending a cascade of shimmering droplets tracing the delicate curve of her spine. A deep, resonant sigh escaped her lips as the water began to cling to her form, the thin fabric of her garment turning translucent and heavy agat her every contour. Strong, knowing hands then guided her gently backwards, submerging her fully into the liquid embrace until her world narrowed to the sound of her own heartbeat. When she rose, gasping, the silken cords were already there, cool and firm as they began their intricate dance across her wrists. Each deliberate loop and pull was a question posed agat her flesh, a gradual surrender of movement that only heightened her awareness. She felt the subtle bite of the material tighten with a delicious precision, securing her arms behind her in a way that arched her back, presenting her chest to the glistening air. The water continued to lap softly at her bound ankles, a teasing counterpoint to the unyielding hold that now cradled her body. Every sense was amplified, from the slick chill on her heated skin to the faint scent of rain-soaked stone that filled the room. In this perfect, helpless suspension, she found not confinement but a profound and pulse-quickening freedom.
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