Karups
Karups Pic(s)
The moon painted silver stripes across the rumpled sheets as she stretched, a slow, languid arc of her spine that was pure, unstudied poetry. His breath caught, not at the sight, but at the feeling of her quiet power, a vibration in the air between them. She turned her head, her gaze holding his with a sleepy, possessive intensity that made his heart stammer against his ribs. A soft, rumbling sound escaped her, a contented purr that he felt more than heard as she nestled closer, her warmth seeping into his skin. Her fingers, light as whispers, traced the line of his jaw, each touch a silent question and its own answer. He could drown in the scent of her hair, a mix of night air and something uniquely, intoxicatingly her. In that suspended moment, the world narrowed to this sanctuary of shared breath and tangled limbs. Every shift of her body was a deliberate, graceful communication, a language older than words. He saw not just a woman, but a creature of profound elegance and untamed spirit choosing to rest in his arms. This was a different kind of conversation, one spoken in heartbeats and the gentle pressure of a hand resting over his own.
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