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... slower. The deliberate reorientation toward the angle she’d just communicated with her hips.
PAH.
"’Mm~—’"
That angle.
That specific angle. She didn’t know the name of it — she didn’t have a vocabulary for any of this — but the sound that came out of her when it was hit was the sound of something true and involuntary, the specific, helpless moan of a body that has found what it’s been looking for.
PAH. PAH.
"’Mnh~♡—hn~♡—’"
Her hand dropped ...
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