it's fine to fake it 'till you make it
Safrin’s kiss erupted onto Jack’s lips, raw and demanding—a collision of fire and starlight that left no room for pretense. Her fingers pressed against his skin as she pulled him flush against her, the heat of her desire palpable against the cool night air. Slowly, deliberately, she slid the last few buttons of her jacket open, the fabric falling away to reveal a moon-pale body sculpted by the heavens. Every curve, every delicate line was bathed in the stark glow of distant galaxies, a promise of pleasure that shimmered in the space between them.
As she clung to him, her legs wrapped around his thighs with an intimate, almost predatory grace, as her eyes darkened. Through their telepathic link, she offered him not just the physical but a window into her cosmos—a swirling vision of pulsating nebulae and glimmering star clusters that promised to overwhelm his senses without swamping them completely. Each mental image was a raw burst of desire, a universe of intimate secrets unfolding just for him.
Have me, Jack.
As she clung to him, her legs wrapped around his thighs with an intimate, almost predatory grace, as her eyes darkened. Through their telepathic link, she offered him not just the physical but a window into her cosmos—a swirling vision of pulsating nebulae and glimmering star clusters that promised to overwhelm his senses without swamping them completely. Each mental image was a raw burst of desire, a universe of intimate secrets unfolding just for him.
Have me, Jack.
'till you do. 'till it's true.
