Lety Howl
The dim light of the room clung to our silhouettes, casting long, dancing shadows on the wall as his hand found the small of my back. A shiver, delicate and profound, traced the path his fingers took along my spine, leaving a trail of awakened nerves in their wake. My breath hitched, caught somewhere between a gasp and a sigh, as he pulled me closer, the warmth of his body a sanctuary against the cool night air. I could feel the steady, strong rhythm of his heart against my chest, a silent drumbeat syncing with my own frantic pulse. His gaze, heavy with unspoken emotion, held mine, and in that quiet darkness, the world narrowed to just this space between us. Every gentle press of his lips against my skin was a whispered promise, a slow-burning fire that built with each passing second. The air grew thick with the scent of him, a familiar and intoxicating mix that made my head spin with a dizzying longing. A soft moan escaped me, not of pain, but of overwhelming sensation, as I arched into his touch, surrendering to the sheer intensity of the moment. The charged atmosphere, once a private cocoon, expanded to include another presence, a shared understanding that deepened the connection. In the end, it was the profound tenderness in his eyes that truly undid me, leaving my soul bare and trembling in the aftermath.
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