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It Hurts

Author: YoursTruly
last update Huling Na-update: 2025-07-24 22:50:51

June

I turn away from the sight of him before my ovaries file a formal complaint.

Adjusting the coffee in my grip, I start to move toward his desk, determined to keep it together.

Do not look at him again. Don’t. I tell myself, chin up, eyes low.

But of course, I do.

And there they are. His forearms. Those veins muscles, his sleeves rolled up just enough to make me remember.

And just like that, my brain betrays me.

I remember those same hands — the way they pushed me back against the hotel wall, firm and hurried. How they gripped my waist like they’d done it a hundred times before, tugging me close until our hips aligned until I could feel the thick, straining length of him pressed hard against my stomach.

My fingers twitch, which made the cup shifts, and I nearly spill it.

Shit.

Before I can recover, his hand snaps out and grabs my wrist firmly, controlled, and steady. His touch burns through me like an electric shock.

Our eyes meet, and he drops my hand like I infected him.

"Try no
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