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SEVENTY THREE | Stab A Knife

[ZARINA]

After waking up the second time this morning, I found Vladimir moving back and forth in the kitchen. Preparing breakfast for both of us. Something warm and sweet curled up inside as I tried not to fall so hard for him. Watching him from a distance and offering no help made me feel like a creep. But it wasn’t my fault that I couldn’t muster up the courage to be in front of him as if nothing had happened the previous night.

Or this morning.

A ticklish dash of heat glided down my spine at the thought of his mouth on my core, his fingers pumping inside. Those sweet words he spoke in that sexy voice of his. All those hot and needy touches. Impassioned kisses. Our bare skin pressed against each other. The feeling of him and me together. Thinking about all of that was enough to drive me crazy and for my thighs to squeeze together to relieve myself of the ache he left behind. But it never eased.

I couldn’t tell what was holding him back from giving me everything he had, or if he was
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