Feet On Demand
The midnight air was thick and still, the only sound the frantic rhythm of my own heart as I watched you from the doorway. A slow, knowing smile graced your lips, a silent challenge that sent a tremor through my entire being. Your eyes, dark pools of liquid promise, held mine with an intensity that made the room feel impossibly small. You moved with a languid grace, a single finger tracing a deliberate path along your collarbone, an unspoken map of a shared, breathless future. Every subtle shift of your body, every soft sigh that escaped your lips, was a deliberate provocation, unraveling my resolve thread by fragile thread. The space between us crackled with a palpable heat, a magnetic pull that made my thoughts scatter like fallen leaves in a storm. I felt the last vestiges of my control slipping away, surrendering to the overwhelming tide of desire you so effortlessly commanded. This was no longer a question of if, but when I would finally close the distance and answer your silent, relentless call. The decision was being stolen from me, replaced by a primal need to get lost in your intoxicating presence. In that suspended moment, every coherent thought dissolved into the simple, aching need to surrender completely to you.
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