ManoJob
Manojob Pic(s)
The city slept under a blanket of distant, winking lights, but in our quiet room, the world had shrunk to the space between us. Her fingers, tracing a slow path from my wrist to my shoulder, spoke a language more profound than any whisper. I watched the candlelight dance in her eyes, each flicker reflecting a silent, shared understanding that quickened my pulse. A soft sigh escaped her lips as my hand settled on the curve of her waist, a gentle anchor in the rising tide of our closeness. The scent of her skin, warm and faintly floral, filled every breath I took, intoxicating my senses completely. She leaned into my touch, her forehead resting against mine, our shared breath creating a fragile, intimate universe. Every cell in my body hummed with a tender, aching anticipation, a sweet tension coiling deep within. The silk of her dress whispered secrets against my skin as she shifted closer, erasing the last sliver of distance. In that suspended moment, I felt not just desire, but a profound, soul-deep recognition that left me wonderfully vulnerable. This was not a rush, but a slow, deliberate unraveling into something beautifully, terrifyingly new.
Comments
Post a Comment