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“Safe word,” he demanded as his hand covered mine on his dick. “You’re either severely overestimating your prowess or once again underestimating what I can handle.” “Give me your safe word, Pix.” He enunciated the sentence as if I were both aggravating and stupid. “If it’ll get you to move things along, fine. Library.” “Good girl,” he growled.
Things We Left Behind (Knockemout, #3)
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