Camille Hahn

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“Don’t worry, Daddy,” she says with conviction and a dash of sultry taunting, but I got a feeling that’s for show. “I couldn’t forget our night together if I tried.” She shoves past. Gone is the flirty sexiness her posture and voice held for a whole five seconds and in its place is a resolute chick ready to dish it. Tutor Girl whips around, and volcanic eyes sear mine. “And believe me, I’ve tried.”
Dirty Curve
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