“Whatever it was, it doesn’t seem to apply to the others. A guy could feel a little hurt.” “He could,” she breathes, eyelids rising and falling with a heavy blink. “But he won’t.” I watch her face closely. “Why’s that?” She doesn’t answer until my hands have risen again, framing the underside of her tits, caressing the skin stretched over her ribs. “He’d probably have to care first,” is her low answer. I pause, hands going still. “You think I don’t care?” When she doesn’t answer, I think fuck it, and sweep my hands up to cup her tits, giving them a long squeeze. In a hushed voice, I ask, “You
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