Evilangel
Gia Vendetti, Mark Wood Pic(s)
The heavy, intimate air filled with the scent of musk and salt as he withdrew, leaving her utterly exposed and open to the dim light, a testament to their fervent union. A profound vulnerability shimmered across her flushed skin, a silent offering he accepted by guiding her onto her knees before him. Her gaze, dark and liquid with devotion, traveled upward along the length of his rigid arousal, still glistening from her own depths. Without a word of hesitation, she leaned forward, her warm, pliant mouth enveloping him completely in a single, slow, and deep motion. The taste that bloomed on her tongue was a complex, primal mixture of their shared passion, a flavor she drank in with a soft, humming sigh of pleasure. She felt the subtle, telltale pulse begin deep within him, a rhythmic promise of the climax to come that made her throat relax in eager anticipation. A warm, thick rush suddenly flooded her mouth, a rich and slightly bitter essence that was purely and uniquely him. She welcomed the offering, swallowing deliberately, feeling the warmth spread through her chest as she drew every last drop from him. A deep, contented sigh escaped her as she finally pulled away, a single pearlescent trickle escaping the corner of her smile, the final, perfect seal on their intimacy.
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