Cassandra Westbrook

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“You always touch my neck when we’re doing things.” “Things?” His hips start moving, too slowly, an unbearable drag. I groan. “Kissing, touching, fucking now.” His expression softens into something achingly vulnerable. “I like feeling your heart beat fast for me.” A secret revealed in the middle of our sex. “That’s how I know you like me.”
You, with a View
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