Stephanie Munguia

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“There was semen…” The medical jargon goes in one ear and out the other in a snap-second daze. All I hear: semen, no abrasions, no signs of force. Of course there wouldn’t be. I had sex with Luna. Me. That morning. Twice. Consensual, loving, smoldering, extraordinary sex.
Unlucky Like Us (Like Us, #12)
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