“Not to mention,” he said, the corner of his mouth curling. “I revile the idea of that sweet, wet pussy going forever unplowed.” “For god’s sake,” Elma spat, scrambling to her feet in annoyance. “I hate you.” “As you should.” Rune moved toward her, and the air between them seemed to electrify. “But strangely, I don’t hate you. Isn’t that interesting?” “You…” Elma said, her mouth dry. “You don’t?” He was so close she could feel his heat. His chest rose and fell in the cold, steam forming at his lips. “I wish I hated you,” he said softly. “It would be easier. But… you’re not like your father.
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