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Kindle Notes & Highlights
“One year, Sumner.” “One year, Britta.”
“You can relax,” he says, gesturing to the chairs in front of him. “I know the real deal when I see it.”
I know the real deal when I see it.
The way he guards me like the crown jewels shouldn’t be such a turn-on, but Lord, it is.
God, I would give anything in the world to stand her up and walk her forward to the waist-high mezzanine wall, flip up her dress, jerk her panties to the left, and bury myself in her cunt.
With very little effort or exertion, Sumner throws me over his shoulder and kicks open my apartment door, walking straight in like he owns the place.
We’re down to three pumps, ladies and gentlemen.
“No.” Sumner’s mother sniffs and draws me back into a hug. “You made my son’s favorite food, that’s all. It’s appreciated.” “That soup is a bitch to make,” points out Chrissy, looking impressed. “That’s like ten thousand brownie points,” says one of the husbands. “Respect.”