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“For some reason I thought Halloween was your favorite.” Lincoln lifted his head up to stare at me with those golden eyes of his. Amused. Very amused. “And why’s that?” he asked innocently before he suddenly bit down on my nipple, making me writhe on the bed. “Because you’re kind of a psycho.” “A psycho, huh?” he asked, moving his mouth to my other breast. “Definitely.”
A Pucking Wrong Christmas (Pucking Wrong, #2.5)
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