Six Sentence Sunday
Beneath the skin, her pulse beat a steady rhythm, and Corin felt the first stirrings of hunger in his belly. The rounded curves of her breasts spilled out from the white cups of her bra, offering a teasing hint of the deep blush of her areolae.
Corin’s gaze traveled down her body, bypassing the dip in her waist, the gentle slope of her belly. He tried hard not to linger on the white panties, the vee between her legs, but instead visually traced the length of her toned thighs. He found himself following a small network of capillaries to the swell of her buttocks. Tightening his jaw proved little relief against the urges rocketing through him, arousing an instinct, some need that had long since gone dormant.
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