His Possession
“Stop for a second, King, Mom’s outside.”
Pandora pressed her hand against Kingston’s chest, trying not to let out even the slightest moan, which forced her to cover her mouth as Kingston continued to run his fingers over her body.
Last time Kingston had done it angrily, but this time the man was exactly like a tyrant—claiming Pandora as his rightful and official possession, as if he could do anything, including slowly creeping downward. Leaving trails of heat, occasionally squeezing Pandora’s chest with a rough grip.
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