“Lucas… what are you doing?” Arabella rasped, her voice breathless, trembling with a mix of confusion and need as he knelt before her, his hands still holding her thighs apart.“You’re hurt, aren’t you?” he asked, his tone laced with concern, his eyes searching hers for the truth. She shook her head, denying it, but her breath hitched as his fingers brushed her core, swollen and tender from their night of passion. She bit her lip, a soft whimper escaping, betraying her.“Don’t lie,” he warned, his voice soft but firm, a gentle reprimand that sent a shiver through her. “It’s swollen, doll. Bruised.” He sighed, his gaze dropping to her core—beautifully pink, yet visibly tender and slightly swollen. Leaning closer, he studied her, his expression a mix of worry and restraint.Her hips moved instinctively, chasing his touch, one hand clenching her breast in desperation, her body betraying her need despite the ache. When he looked up, her face was creased in a frown, her eyes glistening
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