ManoJob
Manojob Pic(s)
The rain traced silver paths down the windowpane, blurring the city lights into a soft, distant galaxy. He stood behind her, his breath a warm whisper against the nape of her neck, his hands resting lightly on her shoulders. A shiver, delicate as a fallen petal, traveled the length of her spine as his fingers began a slow, hypnotic journey down her arms. The only sound was the rhythmic patter of the storm and the unsteady cadence of their shared breathing. She leaned back into the solid warmth of his chest, her head tilting to rest against his cheek, feeling the faint stubble there. Every movement was a silent question, and every sigh was its affirming answer, a language spoken only through touch. The air itself grew thick with the scent of rain and her perfume, a heady mixture that made her feel dizzy with longing. His palms smoothed over the fabric covering her stomach, pulling her closer until she felt the frantic drum of his heart against her back. In that suspended moment, the world outside ceased to exist, and all that remained was the exquisite tension coiling within her. It was a slow, sweet unraveling, a promise of something profound whispered just beneath the skin.
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