Gracey Shelly

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“Does it hurt, baby? Your chest burning? Eyesight swimming? Good. I want you to fucking hurt, you little whore,” I lash out. “When you turned your back on me and walked away like nothing between us ever mattered, I felt like you’d taken a knife to my goddamn stomach and gutted me.”
Twisted Heathens (Blackwood Institute, #1)
by J. Rose
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