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... ugh the latticework windows of the Orchid Palace, yet inside the private chambers of the Sect Leader, the concept of time had dissolved into a sticky, heated haze of unbridled lust. The air was thick, heavy enough to taste, saturated with the coppery tang of virgin blood, the sweet fermentation of spilled spirit wine, and the overwhelming, musky scent of sex.
Wang Jian sat back against the carved spirit-wood headboard of the expansive bed, his breathing steady and deep, a stark contrast ...
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