Midwest freaks
The moon, a lustrous pearl in the velvet sky, was our only witness as we found our secluded sanctuary. Nicky’s gaze held a smoldering intensity that made my heart flutter like a trapped bird against my ribs. His fingers, trembling slightly, traced the line of my jaw before his lips found mine in a tender, searching kiss. A soft sigh escaped me as I melted into his embrace, the cool night air a stark contrast to the heat blooming between our bodies. He guided me gently against the rough bark of an ancient oak, his hands a firm yet reverent anchor on my hips. My own fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as a wave of desperate longing washed over me. In that suspended moment, every whisper of the wind and every rustle of leaves felt like a sacred part of our clandestine ritual. I turned, offering him the vulnerable curve of my back, a silent testament of my complete and trusting surrender. A shiver, born of anticipation and the evening’s chill, danced down my spine as he held me. This was our forbidden secret, a perfect, emotional union written in the silent language of starlight and shared breaths.
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