Leandra Parsons

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I tear my eyes away from hers and do a slow perusal of her body. She’s wearing a pair of short floral shorts that hang mid-thigh and a white T-shirt. She isn’t wearing a bra, which is evident by her hard nipples poking through the thin fabric. Fuck. I snap my head away, trying to avoid needing her that way. “I’m fine. Go back to bed.” “Clearly, you’re not,”
Sweet Collide (Saints of Redville)
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