ManoJob
Manojob Pic(s)
The fading sun cast long, trembling shadows across the quiet room, gilding the dust motes dancing in the still air. His gaze was a physical warmth that traveled over her skin, leaving a trail of invisible fire in its wake. She felt the whisper of his breath against her neck, a soft promise that made her heart hammer against her ribs like a captive bird. His fingers, when they finally traced the line of her jaw, were not demanding but inquisitive, learning the landscape of her with a reverent touch. A shiver, delicious and unbidden, coursed through her as his hand settled on the small of her back, a steady anchor in the rising tide of her emotions. The world outside the window ceased to exist, the only sound the ragged, shared rhythm of their breathing. In the deepening twilight, every glance felt like a confession, every slight shift of his body against hers a silent question and answer. She leaned into his solid strength, her own hands finding the familiar planes of his shoulders, communicating a trust that went beyond words. This was a language written not with sounds, but with trembling sighs and the electric space between almost-touching lips. In that suspended moment, they were not two people, but a single, breathless universe beginning to spin.
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