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The way he says my name. It’s velvet. It’s chocolate. It’s dirty sex in the bathroom upstairs.
I really needed to stop eyeing her brother like I wanted to dip him in melted butter.
“Fuck it,” I whispered to myself. I deserved an orgasm or seven.
“I don’t need fire right now,” I told her. “I need company.” “They make vibrators for that,” Bridget said.
