P.C. Stevens

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“But we are as strangers.” Even to her ears, the protest sounded weak. “And what of it? Strangers fuck.” He moved his mouth to her ear and softly growled, “They fuck at inns, in the private rooms and shadowed corners. They fuck beneath the stars, atop the pelt of a northern falt, with your thighs spread wide and your cunt wet from my tongue. Every night, we could be strangers. So dark it would be when I covered your body with mine, you would not see my face. You would only feel me deep inside.”
A Touch of Stone and Snow (A Gathering of Dragons, #2)
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