Girls That Finish The Job
Girls That Finish The Job Pic(s)
The city lights blurred into a golden river far below our quiet sanctuary. His hand found the small of my back, a warm and steady pressure that made my breath catch. I leaned into him, my cheek resting against the soft wool of his sweater, inhaling his clean, familiar scent. A soft sigh escaped my lips as his fingers traced a slow, deliberate path up my spine, leaving a trail of shimmering warmth. Our foreheads touched, and in that suspended silence, the entire world narrowed to the space between our shared breaths. I felt a tremor run through him, a mirrored response to the dizzying ache blooming deep within my own chest. His gaze held mine, dark and endless, reflecting the constellations we could no longer see. Every nerve ending hummed with a sweet, aching anticipation, a silent music only we could hear. A single, perfect tear traced a path down my cheek, born not of sorrow, but of an overwhelming, radiant joy. In that final, breathless moment before our lips met, I felt myself falling, not into an abyss, but into a sublime and boundless peace.
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