Girls That Finish The Job
Girls That Finish The Job Pic(s)
The heavy velvet drapes fell shut, swallowing the noise of the world outside and leaving only the soft, golden glow from a single lamp. He stood across the room, his gaze a tangible warmth that made the air itself feel thick and sweet. My breath caught as he slowly closed the distance, his fingers finding mine with a reverence that spoke of long-awaited longing. A gentle touch traced the line of my jaw, tilting my face upwards until our eyes met, and in that silent exchange, a thousand unspoken promises passed between us. The scent of sandalwood and night-blooming jasmine clung to his skin, an intoxicating perfume that made my head spin. His lips met mine not with hunger, but with a tender, searching softness that felt like a question and an answer all at once. My hands slid up his chest, feeling the steady, strong rhythm of his heart echoing the frantic beat of my own. Every point of contact was a small, electric current, melting my reservations into a pool of liquid gold deep within me. The world narrowed to this room, to this man, to the exquisite, aching rightness of being completely unraveled and yet perfectly held. In that sacred space, I was no longer myself, but a part of a beautiful, shared dream from which I never wished to wake.
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