

I felt his fingers dig into the silk of my gown at my waist. His grip was bruising possessive, claiming, marking me even through the fabric. He leaned in, his stubble grazing the sensitive skin of my neck, his breath hot and ragged.



I felt his fingers dig into the silk of my gown at my waist. His grip was bruising possessive, claiming, marking me even through the fabric. He leaned in, his stubble grazing the sensitive skin of my neck, his breath hot and ragged.

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