Mathilde Emdal

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“You smell so fucking good,” he says, his tone tinged with aching need. “Sometimes I jerk off using your body wash. I pretend the gel is you.” His hands slide back down my sides, gentle caress. “I rub your cum into my skin and let that scent haunt me. Wanna smell like you—”
Mathilde Emdal
OK, REMEMBER TO BREATHE FOLKS
Pucking Ever After(Jacksonville Rays, #2.5)
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