know the story. If I searched his eyes long and hard enough, maybe what I craved would seep out. Damn it! Even with the liquor on his breath, he smelled incredible. Like some kind of bodywash. My thighs were cold where his wet pants rubbed, but the rest of me was on fire. Heat spilled from the pores on my neck, and a drop of sweat glided between my breasts where my chest touched his. Dizziness fogged my head with the pressure he was putting between my legs. Our breathing matched up, and his expression was no longer angry. He spoke shakily, almost sadly. “You fucked me up today.” I assumed he
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