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... g on its own, becoming habitual and addicted to his hands as he spread her legs each time.
The deliberate, gentle spreading — his hands at her inner thighs, the slow, careful push of them apart. Her legs offering the sleep-weight resistance of limbs that were not conscious enough to resist and not heavy enough to prevent the spreading.
They opened.
He looked at her.
The dark, thick hair. The warmth still coming off her. The warm evidence of him still there, the da ...
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