Jem Zero

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He gasps for breath, smacks the palm of his hand against my thigh, I can’t help but tease him for a moment longer before letting up, lifting my hips and letting the mess he made inside of me slide back out, onto his stomach, onto the couch.  “God dammit,” Hawthorne curses me. Whatever, we should share the load.
ROTGUT (ROTGUTVERSE)
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