Deja Trotman

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I look up at Wes, whose look of pure pleasure is different than anything I’ve ever seen from him. His eyes are closed, his brows furrowed and his lips parted. It’s so hot that I clench around him. He grabs my leg and stops. “Fuck, Rose, warn me before you do that,” he says, his voice rough.
Sips About to Go Down (Stryker Family #1)
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