ManoJob
Manojob Pic(s)
The fading sun bled honey-gold through the window, casting long, tender shadows across the room where they stood, a breath apart. His gaze was a tangible warmth, a silent question that made her skin hum with a newfound awareness. She watched the slow, deliberate journey of his hand as it rose, his knuckles barely grazing the line of her jaw, a touch so feather-light it was almost a whisper. A shiver, delicate as a butterfly's wing, traced the path his fingers had taken, awakening a dormant longing deep within her core. The air grew thick with the scent of rain-kissed jasmine and the intoxicating fragrance of their shared, unspoken yearning. Her own breath hitched, a soft, surrendering sound as she leaned into his palm, her eyes fluttering closed to better feel the storm of sensation. In that suspended moment, the world narrowed to the space between their bodies, a magnetic field of aching potential and unvoiced promises. Every nerve ending felt alive, singing a silent hymn of connection that resonated in the quiet space between their heartbeats. It was a key turning in a lock she never knew existed, opening a door to a vast, uncharted landscape of feeling. And as his forehead gently met hers, a single, perfect tear escaped, tracing the path of her blush—not of sorrow, but of profound, overwhelming discovery.
Comments
Post a Comment