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Victimo.4:TeMaager-3 (6 / 7)

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        Andthentherewastheshockingperfectionbetweenherlegs—completelybare,smoothasporcelain,swollenlikefreshlysteamedbun.

        "Youshould''vebeenminelongago,"herasped,kneelingonthemattress.

        Heremovedtheglovefromonehand,tracingupherthighwiththetriumphantreverenceofahunterfinallyclaiminghisprey.

        Herlipspartedslightly,thetipofhertonguedartingoutasifshecouldalreadytastethesaltofhisdesirethickintheair.

        Half-liddedeyes,raggedbreaths—theuntamedenergyinsidehersuddenlywrithed,boilingoverwithimpatienthunger.Aprimalcravingnotakeoutmealcouldeversatisfycrashedoverherlikeawave.

        Butsheknew,inhercurrentstate,shewouldgetnothingfromhim.Notlikethis.

        Herlegswerealreadypartedbythetautchains,allowinghimtoeasilysettlebetweenthem.Withonehand,hespreadherswollenfolds,admiringthewayherentrancepulsedlikealivingthing—eachslow,rhythmicflutterreleasingabeadoftranslucentfluidthatgathered,swelled,thentraileddownherfolds.

        Hisbreathinggrewragged,asifhiswholebeingwassinkingintothefaintscentradiatingfromthose"dewdrops."Hisheadswimmingwiththescentrisingfromher—dampandsweetliketidalpools,lacedwithsomethingnarcotic.Itclungtotheair,thickasopiumsmoke.

        Hewantedtotasteit,neededto,butathreadofcautionstillheldhimback.

        Shelookeduntouched,pristine—butthen,she''dspreadherlegsforthatfreak.Thethoughtcoiledinhisgutlikespoiledmeat.

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