Squirt Lady
The evening light bled through the window, casting long, golden shadows across the rumpled sheets where they lay entwined. Her breath hitched as his hand traced a slow, deliberate path down the curve of her spine, a silent question in the tender pressure of his fingertips. A shiver, both of apprehension and profound longing, coursed through her, and she met his gaze, her eyes wide with a vulnerability that made his heart ache. With a soft sigh that was both a release and an invitation, she surrendered completely, pressing her face into the crook of his neck as he moved with a deep, reverent rhythm. The world narrowed to this single, secret point of connection, a forbidden thrill that built with each shared, stolen breath. A low moan escaped her lips as the first wave of pleasure crashed over her, a raw, shuddering release that left her trembling and clutching at his shoulders. Then another, more intense surge followed, a cascade of sensation that made her arch against him, her body singing with an unexpected, liquid warmth. Tears of overwhelming emotion welled in her eyes, not of pain, but of a soul-deep completion that left her utterly spent. He held her through it all, his own release a quiet, grounding anchor in the storm of her ecstasy, his whispered words a gentle balm against her fevered skin. In the hushed aftermath, they remained locked together, two hearts beating a frantic, slowing rhythm in the quiet, intimate dark.
Comments
Post a Comment