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I lowered the zipper. His grip on my ass tightened and he pulled back slightly. “I’m not fucking you for the first time in the back seat of my car.” First time… first time implied a second time which implied multiple times. I wasn’t just crossing a line out here. I was getting a running start and leaping over it, leaving the line far behind.
Faking Ms. Right (Dirty Martini Running Club, #1)
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