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“Goddess, we beseech you to make him the sort of man who will forever think the clitoris is exactly one-third of an inch away from where it actually is.” “Diabolical, Vivi. Truly dark magic.”
She was just a silhouette, a dark figure against even more darkness, but even if he hadn’t heard her voice, he would’ve recognized her, would’ve known that shape anywhere. Even after nine years. Even in the dark. Fuck’s sake.
“You . . . literally said, ‘I curse you, Rhys Penhallow,’ and now you’re surprised that I, Rhys Penhallow, am cursed? Also, I’m sorry, what was that about clitorises?”

