ManoJob
Manojob Pic(s)
The fire cast long, dancing shadows across the room, each flicker a silent testament to the tension in the air. His gaze was a physical touch, a warm caress that traced the line of my jaw before I even felt his breath near my skin. My own breath hitched as his fingers, feather-light, brushed a stray lock of hair from my cheek, tucking it slowly behind my ear. The world narrowed to this single, suspended moment, the soft crackle of the fire the only sound besides the frantic drumming of my heart. He leaned in, his forehead gently resting against mine, and I could feel the quiet sigh escape his lips, a warm whisper against my mouth. My eyes fluttered closed, surrendering to the dizzying proximity, as I felt the intoxicating softness of his lips finally meet mine. It was a slow, searching kiss, a tender exploration that spoke of longing and unspoken promises. A shiver ran through me, not from cold, but from the sheer intensity of the emotion he poured into that single, lingering touch. My hands found their way to his chest, feeling the steady, strong rhythm beneath my palms, a anchor in the swirling sea of sensation. In that breathless union, I tasted not just him, but the very essence of a dream I never wanted to end.
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