At the edge of a moonlit pool, Clea Gaultier drops to her knees in leopard-print bikini bottoms and takes him deep, water lapping at her thighs. She rises, lets him taste her glistening skin, then guides him back to her mouth for a slow, dripping finish under the palms. The night air, the wet heat, the way she locks eyes while she swallows—pure invitation.
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