Girls That Finish The Job
Girls That Finish The Job Pic(s)
The sun bled gold through the gauzy curtains, catching the dust motes dancing around them like shy fireflies. Her fingers, trembling slightly, traced the delicate line of my collarbone, a question whispered against my skin. I leaned into the touch, my breath catching as her palm settled on the small of my back, a warm, steady anchor in the rising tide of my heartbeat. The air itself felt thick with jasmine and unspoken confessions, every glance a secret shared only in this hushed, gilded space. Her forehead rested against mine, our shared breath a silent language more intimate than any words. I could feel the soft exhalation of a sigh against my lips, a promise hovering in the scant space between us. My hands found their way into her hair, tangling in the silken threads as I pulled her closer, erasing the last vestiges of distance. A single, perfect tear escaped the corner of her eye, and I kissed it away, tasting the salt of her overwhelming emotion. In that suspended moment, the entire world narrowed to the map of freckles on her nose and the devastating softness of her smile. We were no longer two separate beings, but a single, radiant pulse of light in the quiet, fading afternoon.
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