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He wasn’t fluent in Chinese yet, but he was fluent in the language that counts: food.
Blake’s back arched and his grip tightened as he came in her mouth. Farrah lapped up every drop, milking him dry until he collapsed back onto the bed.
Blake kept his gaze on Farrah’s face, taking his cues from her reactions—the way her eyelids fluttered and lips parted when he rubbed his thumb over her clit, the way she arched when he slipped a finger inside her warmth until his fingers were slick with her juices.
