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The contrast was a shock.

So was the look in his eyes as he stood over her.

Predatory. Possessive. Unforgiving in his need.

Ki’Remi wasn’t a man who lost control.

With her, however, he was on the brink.

Evidenced by the tented column in his pants.

He reached for his shirt and shirked it in one move.

Followed by his slacks and boots.

Revealing his sheer beauty.

Ki’Remi was a living masterpiece.

Tall, broad, and chiseled from utter discipline, each angle a map of sinew, carved muscle, and untamed strength honed over years of relentless conditioning.

His dark honey skin gleamed under the ambient light, sleek with the lingering sheen of exertion.

Every ridge of his torso was defined. From the deep-cut lines of his abdomen to the thick, sculpted bands of his shoulders and arms, flexing with each slow movement he made.

But it wasn’t just his absolute physicality that commanded attention.

It was the tattoos.

Silver and gold metanoid ink shifted restlessly over his flesh, a living network of ancient designs, their movements subtle, almost hypnotic.

Across his biceps and forearms, the metallic filigree pulsed like veins of molten ore, etching his lineage, history, and power into his skin.

Down his back, the markings expanded into intricate tribal sigils, whispering of forgotten legacies and untold strength.

The pigment rippled over the taut ridges of his spine, shifting in response to his every breath, a silent, restless energy woven into his very being.

Over his ribs, a circular formation flickered and reformed like Sol’s glorious light. Its center glowing, a metanoid core, the heart of his enhancements, alive beneath the surface.

The thick cords of his thighs were just as decorated, his ink trailing the deep valleys of muscle, wrapping around his quads like gilded armor.

His hands carried the most striking of all his markings, sigils that ran along his fingers, their shimmering patterns flaring to life whenever his potency activated.

He was both man and machine, warrior and enigma, a mortal synthesis of ancient heritage and cutting-edge evolution.

And when he moved, slow, deliberate, every step a calculated force of dominance, there was no mistaking the sheer, raw force within him.

A predator carved from obsidian and fire, searing and untamed.

Utterly, devastatingly lethal.

But it was his cock that she gasped at.

Thick, so shockingly cosmic, and thudding again, his hardness seeping for her.

Even as his glowing ink coiled over its steel column in celestial constellations, forming and reforming in mesmerizing patterns.

Her pussy flooded as she reached for him.