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The tap switches on in the bathroom, and he returns a moment later with a warm washcloth, carefully wiping my inner thighs. When he dips between my legs, I draw in a soft breath at the stimulation from the terrycloth where I’m still sensitive and now a little sore, and his touch gentles even more. My hands sink into his thick hair, playing with it affectionately. “You’re still sweet, you know that?”
