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Victimo.3:Quasimodo-4 (1 / 5)

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        Allofthishadtobeadream.Hismostunrestrainedfantasy.

        Ifthatwastrue,thenlethimindulge—letthefantasydescendcompletelyintomadness.

        Julian''shandlingeredoverReya''schest,thenhesitantly,almostreverently,hecuppedherbreast.Hisfingerstesteditsweight,itssoftness.Theotherhand,whichhadbeengrippingthesofacushionlikeananchor,finallysurrendered,slidinguptoclaimitstwin.

        AmischievoussmiletuggedatReya''slipsasherhandstracedthehardlinesofhistorso,peelingawayhisT-shirtandthenhers.

        Thecontrastbetweenthemwasalmostcruel.

        Herskin,smoothandluminousasfreshmilk,againsthis,acanvasofscarsandroughhistory.

        Hisfingertipsmovedoverherwithapilgrim''sdevotion,tracingtheperfectswellofher,clumsywithwant.Histremblingfingers,delicatewithuncertainty,sentripplesthroughhersoftness,likewatershiveringinthehollowoflovinghands.

        Herbreastslookedlikecarvedalabaster,yetpossessedanindescribablesoftnessunderhistouch,aparadoxthatshort-circuitedhisthoughts.

        Julian''smindwentblank.Noplan,noscript—justtheelectrichumofnervesandthedizzyingsenseoffalling.Hefeltutterlylost,uncertainofwhattodonext,buthecouldn''tpullaway.

        Reyamimickedwhatthosetwomenhadoncedonetoher.HerfingersfoundJulian''snipple,alreadystiffwitharousal,andpinchedlightly.

        Hisentirebodytensed,muscleslockingunderhertouch.Shesmirked,rollingthesensitivebudbetweenherfingers,watchingashisbreathhitched,hiscontrolfrayingattheedges.

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