Real King Cobra
The midnight air was thick with a silent, aching humidity, clinging to her skin as she waited by the window, her heart a frantic drum against her ribs. When his silhouette finally darkened the doorway, a shiver of pure anticipation traced her spine. His hands, familiar and firm, found the delicate curve of her waist, pulling her into the quiet darkness of the bedroom where only the moon acted as a witness. She could feel the solid strength of his form against her, a fortress of muscle and heat that made her feel both delicate and powerful. Every whispered plea from her lips was a fragile confession of the longing that had haunted her for weeks. His gaze, intense and blue, held hers, seeing the raw need she no longer tried to hide. As their bodies moved together in a slow, sacred rhythm, the world outside ceased to exist, leaving only the language of touch and shared breath. A soft cry escaped her, a sound of surrender and profound relief, as a wave of overwhelming emotion finally crested within her. In the profound stillness that followed, a deep, contented sigh whispered from her soul, the sweet taste of their connection a secret she would cherish. They were adrift in a private universe, bound by the silent, shimmering threads of a desire finally, completely, fulfilled.
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