Girls That Finish The Job
Girls That Finish The Job Pic(s)
The fading sun cast long, trembling shadows across the room, gilding the dust motes dancing in the still air. His gaze was a tangible warmth that traveled over my skin, leaving a trail of quiet fire in its wake. I felt my breath catch as his fingers, with infinite slowness, traced the line from my wrist to the curve of my shoulder. A soft sigh escaped my lips, a sound I barely recognized as my own, lost in the profound silence between us. He leaned in, and the world narrowed to the space where his forehead gently rested against mine, our shared breath a silent, frantic language. Every nerve ending seemed to awaken, humming with a desperate, beautiful anticipation that tightened low in my stomach. The scent of his skin, of warm cotton and something uniquely him, wrapped around me like a second embrace. I could feel the frantic rhythm of his heart echoing my own, a wild, syncopated drum against my chest. In that suspended moment, every fear and doubt melted away, leaving only this raw, aching vulnerability. This was not an end, but a breathtaking beginning, a silent promise of a journey we were starting together.
Comments
Post a Comment