“Sorry,” he said again around his thick tongue. “Overestimated my own endurance.” “What do you mean?” Her fragile voice broke through his lust stupor, at least for a moment. He finally took in the blue and purple splotches blooming on her neck. He straightened his shoulders with renewed resolve to take care of her. “Just that I should have prepared myself more before I came in so that I could help you without sporting a rampant erection.” Clara’s eyes wandered to his groin at his words. When she licked her top lip, the tiny gesture made him almost double over. “Jesus fucking Christ.” Traffic.
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