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PREVIEW
... rystal’s Composure
Kimchi looked absolutely wrecked — not physically, no. The bitch was glowing as usual, thighs firm enough to decapitate a man and hair woven with bioluminescent threads like a goddess on combat steroids. But spiritually? Mentally? Emotionally? She was a collapsed lung in a silk dress.
"I’m issuing a cock embargo," I told them both bluntly. "Zero Irvine insertion. For the rest of the trip. Not negotiable."
Kimchi wilted.
Onyx, ever the actress, l ...
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