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... You know — that slow blink into sunlight, maybe stretch a little, groan, check your phone, contemplate the meaninglessness of existence, and maybe eat cereal.
Not for me, I woke up to thighs.
On me.
Warm, bare and velvety-smooth thighs.
My eyes snapped open.
Celestia Valentina Moreau was straddling me.
In my bed.
Smirking.
Wearing one of my old T-shirts and absolutely nothing else I could see.
"Oh good," sh ...
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