Girls That Finish The Job
Girls That Finish The Job Pic(s)
The sun had long since vanished, leaving the sky bruised with violet and gold, and the warm air clung to our skin like a second layer. His hand found the small of my back, a gentle pressure that spoke volumes in the silent, fragrant garden. I could feel the steady, strong rhythm of his heartbeat against my palm, a silent drum answering the unspoken question trembling on my lips. His gaze, dark and intense, held mine as he slowly traced the line of my jaw, his touch leaving a trail of shimmering heat. A soft sigh escaped me, lost to the chorus of crickets as I leaned into his solid strength, my fingers curling into the soft fabric of his shirt. The world narrowed to this single, suspended moment, charged with a longing so profound it felt like a physical ache deep within my chest. He lowered his forehead to rest against mine, our breath mingling in the sultry night, a shared secret in the dark. Every nerve ending felt alive, hyper-aware of the minuscule distance between our bodies, a space humming with unspoken promises. I closed my eyes, drowning in the sensation of his thumb softly stroking my wrist, a gesture so tender it threatened to unravel me completely. In that breathless space, I knew this was not just a summer night, but the beginning of everything.
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