ManoJob
Manojob Pic(s)
The rain traced silver paths down the windowpane, blurring the city lights into a soft, golden haze. He stood behind her, his breath a warm whisper against the nape of her neck, his hands resting gently on her shoulders. A shiver, delicate as a falling leaf, cascaded down her spine as his fingers began a slow, hypnotic journey along her skin. Every stroke was a silent question, and every sigh from her lips was a breathless answer, building a language known only to their bodies. The world outside melted away, leaving only the hushed rhythm of the storm and the accelerating drum of her heart. She leaned into his solid warmth, her head tilting back against his chest, surrendering to the exquisite tension coiling within her. His touch was both a promise and a prayer, mapping the constellations of her yearning with an artist's reverence. A soft, broken sound escaped her, a testament to the overwhelming wave of feeling crashing over her weary soul. In that suspended moment, she felt utterly known, every guarded part of her gently unlocked and laid bare. They remained there, entwined in the quiet aftermath, two souls floating in the serene silence of complete, unspoken understanding.
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