Girls That Finish The Job
Girls That Finish The Job Pic(s)
The golden afternoon light spilled through the window, catching the dust motes dancing around them like tiny, suspended stars. He reached for a ripe strawberry, his fingers brushing against hers, a simple touch that sent a tremor up her arm and settled as a warm, fluttering ache deep within her chest. She watched, mesmerized, as he brought the berry to her lips, his gaze holding hers with an intensity that made the rest of the world softly blur and fade into insignificance. The sweet, tart juice burst on her tongue, but all she could taste was the electric potential humming in the scant inches between their bodies. A slow, shy smile curved her mouth as she leaned into the solid warmth of his shoulder, her cheek resting against the soft fabric of his shirt. She could feel the steady, strong rhythm of his heartbeat, a silent drum answering the frantic, hopeful pace of her own. His hand came up to cradle the back of her head, his touch impossibly gentle, as if she were something precious and fragile. The air grew thick with the scent of sugar, dark chocolate, and the simple, clean fragrance of his skin, a combination that made her feel dizzy and utterly grounded all at once. In that suspended moment, every whispered breath and shared glance felt like a secret language, a profound conversation spoken only with their souls. This was more than a tasting; it was a quiet feast of longing, a delicious, slow-burning promise of what was yet to come.
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