Girls That Finish The Job
Girls That Finish The Job Pic(s)
The sultry evening air clung to their skin like a whispered promise as Roxanne stepped into the dimly lit room, her heart a frantic drum against her ribs. His gaze was a physical touch, warm and heavy, tracing the line of her jaw before she even felt his hand there. A slow, soft sigh escaped her lips as his thumb gently stroked her cheek, the world narrowing to this single, breathless point of contact. She leaned into his palm, her eyes fluttering closed, surrendering to the profound tenderness of the gesture. The scent of his cologne, warm spice and clean linen, wrapped around her, an intoxicating fog that clouded all reason. When his other hand settled on the small of her back, a jolt of pure, undiluted longing coursed through her, melting her resolve into a pool of liquid heat. Her fingers found his chest, feeling the steady, strong rhythm of his heart answering the wild cadence of her own. He dipped his head, his breath a warm caress against her neck, and she arched instinctively, a silent plea for more. In that suspended moment, every unspoken word and hidden desire hung between them, thick and sweet as honey. This was not a conquest, but a quiet, mutual discovery, a slow-burning fuse leading them into the unknown.
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