Allison Carr

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“Fucking hell,” the cowboy growled through the phone. “You touchin’ yourself?” I cupped my breast fully. Oh. That felt good. Too good. I let out a breathy, quiet moan. “That’s it, baby,” he whispered, his voice rougher and deeper than before. My core spasmed, and I felt a different kind of wetness between my thighs.
Sing for Me (The Langston Brothers Duet, #2)
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