Sarah Ziemann

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With a small frown, she bends to pick it up, and as she stands, I can’t stop myself, I dart a hand out, catch her around the wrist. She tenses, her gaze snapping to mine, and while she swallows, she doesn’t pull away. So, I tug her into me. I’m talking right on me. Her copper eyes are wide and unsure, a little uneasy but a little more intrigued. I shift a little closer and she chases a choppy breath. Gliding my thumb a little higher on her wrist, I press right over her pounding pulse, not missing how it begins to knock a little harder. Her fingers tighten around the ball and heat builds in my ...more
Dirty Curve
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