Girls That Finish The Job
Girls That Finish The Job Pic(s)
The sun bled gold across the water, and his hand found the small of my back, a warm anchor in the cooling evening air. My breath hitched as his thumb traced slow, deliberate circles on my skin, a silent language that spoke of longing. I leaned into his solid frame, my head finding its home against his shoulder. The scent of salt and his skin filled my senses, a dizzying, intoxicating perfume. His lips brushed my temple, a whisper of a promise that made my heart stammer. Our fingers intertwined, a perfect, desperate fit as the waves sighed onto the shore. I could feel the steady, strong rhythm of his pulse beneath my cheek, a drumbeat matching my own. His gaze, when I finally met it, was dark and deep, holding a universe of unspoken desire. The world narrowed to this single point of contact, this breathless space between a kiss and its fulfillment. In that suspended moment, I was utterly, completely his.
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