Betsy And The Books

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“Fletcher.” I don’t have anything to follow up, just…him. Everything in me calls for him. His touch, his taste, his sounds, his scent. Him, him, him. “Incredible,” he groans into my mouth, and I think that might be my first tattoo. Incredible. Anywhere on my body—I don’t care—I just want this moment locked in time with him. I want a piece of this to be permanent.
Drawn Together
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