Wake Up and Fuck: Angela Whites Morning Rendezvous

BustyWorld

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The first light of dawn painted the room in hues of gold and grey as she stirred, her lips finding his in a slow, sleep-soft kiss that spoke a silent, urgent language. He woke to the scent of her skin and the gentle weight of her body, a sigh escaping him as her fingers traced the line of his jaw with a tender possessiveness. Her hair cascaded over them like a curtain of fire, creating a private world where only their shared breath existed. He responded by drawing her closer, his hands mapping the gentle curve of her spine with a reverence that made her heart ache. A soft moan escaped her as he buried his face in the crook of her neck, his lips whispering promises against her fluttering pulse. The world outside their sanctuary ceased to be, the only sound the rustle of sheets and the rhythm of their hearts beating in a frantic, synchronized dance. Every touch was a question and an answer, a slow burn that built into a consuming fire of shared longing. She arched against him, her body a seamless melody to his, each movement a wordless poem of devotion and desire. In his eyes, she saw her own emotions reflected—a vulnerable, breathtaking need that stripped them both bare. This was not a beginning or an end, but a perfect, suspended moment where two souls became inextricably, beautifully one.