ManoJob
Manojob Pic(s)
The last golden light of day bled through the window, gilding the dust motes dancing in the hushed air between them. Her breath hitched as his knuckles, with infinite slowness, traced the delicate line of her jaw, a whisper of a touch that sent shivers cascading down her spine. She leaned into the solid warmth of his chest, her own heart hammering a frantic, desperate rhythm against his. The scent of his skin, clean and faintly of sandalwood, filled her senses, becoming her entire world. His gaze, dark and heavy with unspoken promises, held hers captive, and in that silent exchange, a thousand tender confessions were made. A soft sigh escaped her lips as his thumb brushed the corner of her mouth, a gesture so intimate it felt like a secret being shared. The world outside, with all its noise and haste, melted into an indistinct blur, leaving only this quiet, aching tension. Every fiber of her being yearned to close the minuscule distance, to feel the soft pressure of his mouth on hers. It was a sweet, agonizing anticipation that coiled deep within her, a longing that was both a plea and a surrender. In that suspended moment, she was utterly and completely his.
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