Girls That Finish The Job
Girls That Finish The Job Pic(s)
The city slept beneath a blanket of distant, silent stars, their cold light a stark contrast to the warmth radiating from your skin so close to mine. My breath caught as your fingers, with a feather’s touch, traced the delicate line from my wrist to the bend of my elbow, a silent question written upon my flesh. A shiver, entirely separate from the cool night air, danced down my spine and settled deep within me, a fluttering of wings against my ribs. I could feel the steady, strong rhythm of your heart where my hand rested against your chest, a primal drum answering the frantic beat of my own. Your gaze held mine, dark and bottomless, reflecting a universe of unspoken longing that made my knees feel weak. The scent of night-blooming jasmine wove around us, an intoxicating perfume mingling with the clean, familiar smell of your skin. When you leaned in, your forehead gently resting against mine, the world and all its noise faded into a blissful, insignificant hum. A soft sigh escaped my lips, not of surrender, but of a profound and aching recognition, a feeling of finally arriving home after a long and lonely journey. In that suspended moment, every nerve ending sang with the terrifying, beautiful anticipation of what was to come. I let myself fall into the quiet gravity of your presence, completely and without reservation.
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