ManoJob
Manojob Pic(s)
The rain traced silver paths down the windowpane, blurring the city lights into a soft, golden haze. Her fingers, impossibly gentle, traced the line of my jaw, sending a cascade of shivers down my spine. The air itself seemed to thicken, charged with the unspoken words hanging between our shared silence. I could feel the delicate warmth of her breath against my neck, a fleeting caress that made my heart hammer against my ribs. Her scent, a mix of vanilla and night air, wove around me, an intoxicating perfume that clouded all rational thought. When her palm pressed flat against my chest, I felt the tremor in her touch, a silent echo of my own frantic pulse. Our eyes met, and in that deep, liquid gaze, I saw a universe of longing and tender promise. She leaned in, her forehead resting against mine, our breaths mingling in a quiet, desperate rhythm. Every nerve ending in my body awakened, singing a hymn of pure, aching need for her closeness. In that suspended moment, the entire world dissolved, leaving only the exquisite, soul-deep certainty of her.
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