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He grabs my wrist and rips my grip from his soft strands, taking a few hairs with me. “What?” I ask, slightly confused as he lifts his face from my pleading center. “I’m a man, baby. I prefer to eat without assistance.”
That’s the thing about love. It can give someone the power to build you up or completely shatter you with one look, one touch, or a single act.
my broken angel
With my seatbelt firmly in place, he says nothing and drives away. No hello. How are you? Has your pussy shrunk down to a normal size since I rammed my huge eggplant up it? Nothing.