Girls That Finish The Job
Girls That Finish The Job Pic(s)
The city lights blurred beyond the rain-streaked window, a silent symphony of gold and silver against the deep indigo night. His thumb traced the delicate line of my jaw, a touch so feather-light it sent shivers cascading down my spine. I could feel the frantic, answering rhythm of my own heart as I leaned into the solid warmth of his chest, breathing in his familiar scent of clean cotton and the evening rain. A soft, breathless sigh escaped my lips as his fingers tangled gently in my hair, tilting my face up towards his. The world narrowed to this single, suspended moment, the space between our shared breaths charged with a tender, aching electricity. His eyes, dark and impossibly deep, held mine, reflecting a universe of unspoken promises and raw, vulnerable feeling. Every nerve ending hummed with a sweet, anticipatory tension, as if my entire being were a plucked string waiting for its resonant chord. The cool glass against my back was a stark contrast to the consuming heat radiating from where our bodies met, a delicious paradox that made me tremble. In that endless minute, I felt utterly unmoored, yet more securely anchored than I had ever been, lost and found in the same breathtaking instant. A quiet, contented smile touched his lips just before they met mine, and everything else simply melted away.
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