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I’ll crawl into your lap slow, nails dragging down your chest just hard enough to leave my signature in red lines you’ll feel for days. I’ll whisper every filthy thing I’m about to do to you right against your ear, voice low and dripping with smoke, until your hands are shaking and you’re already leaking for me. Then I’ll make you wait. Because I can. Because watching you ache is half the fun.
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