CreamPiled
The room was a sanctuary of hushed breaths and tangled limbs, the air thick with the scent of salt and night-blooming jasmine. His gaze, intense and unwavering, locked with hers as a profound connection surged between them, silencing the world beyond their embrace. A soft, shuddering sigh escaped her lips, a prelude to the storm building within the very core of her being. Every nerve ending seemed to awaken, singing a silent, electric hymn as his touch traced a path of fire across her skin. The pressure, beautiful and terrifying, coiled tightly in her abdomen, a spring waiting for its inevitable release. A broken sob caught in her throat as her back arched, her fingers clutching desperately at the sheets, seeking an anchor in the overwhelming tide. Then it broke, a wave of pure, unadulterated sensation that crashed over her, leaving her trembling and weightless. Her entire body went limp, a vessel emptied of everything but the lingering, golden warmth of the climax. A single, blissful tear traced a path down her temple, disappearing into the damp hair at her temple. In the heavy, sacred quiet that followed, he gently gathered her shaking form into his arms, his own breath a soft echo against her forehead, a silent promise held in the stillness.
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