Girls That Finish The Job
Girls That Finish The Job Pic(s)
The fading sun cast long, amber shadows across the room, painting your silhouette in hues of gold and dusk. My breath caught as your fingers, feather-light, traced the line from my shoulder to my wrist, a silent question in the tender pressure. A shiver, unbidden and delicious, danced down my spine, awakening every nerve ending to your nearness. The air grew thick with the scent of your skin and the unspoken words hanging between us. I felt my resolve soften, a quiet surrender to the gravity pulling me into your orbit. Your gaze held mine, a deep, smoldering pool of promise that made my heart hammer against my ribs. When your palm settled warm and firm on the small of my back, I melted into the touch, a soft sigh escaping my lips. In that suspended moment, the world outside ceased to exist, leaving only the map of sensation you were drawing across my skin. My head tilted back, a wordless offering of trust, as your lips found the frantic pulse at the base of my throat. This was not a capture, but a gentle, willing fall into a bliss I had only ever dreamed of.
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