ManoJob
Manojob Pic(s)
The golden afternoon light spilled through the window, catching the dust motes dancing around them like tiny, suspended stars. He watched her, utterly captivated, as she closed her eyes and slowly brought a single, plump strawberry to her parted lips. A soft, contented sigh escaped her, a sound that seemed to vibrate directly through his own chest. Her fingers, delicate and sure, then traced the rim of a glass of dark chocolate, gathering a small amount on their tips. She offered it to him, her gaze holding his with an unspoken question, her smile a shy, promising curve. He leaned in, his lips gently meeting her skin, and the rich, bittersweet flavor exploded on his tongue, a taste far more intoxicating than the cocoa itself. The air grew thick with the scent of ripe fruit and their shared, shallow breaths, a silent language of longing. He reached out, his thumb softly brushing a stray crumb from the corner of her mouth, a touch that felt more intimate than any kiss. In that fleeting contact, a universe of feeling passed between them—a blend of vulnerability, trust, and a slow, burning ache. The world outside the sun-drenched room simply ceased to exist, leaving only this sacred, sensory space they were building together, breath by breath.
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