“Your past lovers not take care of you right, Miss Lilith Goode?” he asks, and I can feel his cruel laugh against the bare heat of my throbbing wetness. “Because you're wound up real tight.” Paxton thrusts a finger inside of me, punctuating the word tight with the motion. I scream then, a real, full shout that makes my throat feel dry and sore. “What the hell, Pax?” a voice asks quietly from the hallway—I think it's Ransom again. The bed creaks, and I take the guess that Pax is glancing over his shoulder. I'm trembling too much to lift up my head and see for myself. “Fuck off, Ran. Can't you
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