A Touch of Madness
My eyes misted up as I touched the tattoos on his athletic chest.
His touch grew slower, almost cautious. His lips moved gently along my neck, sending me a warm rush. Each peck from him was so intense, making my breathing heavier, clearly audible in our quiet room, accompanied only by the sound of my racing heart.
My hands moved uncontrollably, exploring the surface of his hard, muscular chest. My fingers traced the contours of the tattoos etched into his skin. The tattoo was so familiar to me that I could touch it without even opening my eyes.
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