Anthonette Loraine

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I smiled. “I’ll take your request under consideration.” His hand slid between my thighs. “Please do.” When the pads of his fingers began to rub slow, targeted circles, he whispered, “Since you won’t spread your wings, at least spread your legs.” “Asher . . . I’m so sore.” “It’s just my fingers. Let me have something to think about during my lonely flight back to the guild.”
Celestial (Angels of Elysium, #2)
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