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Quote by Dolores Lane

“Are you okay, sweetheart?” he asks. “Am I too rough?” I huff out an amused breath. “No.” He slowly pulls his cock out and turns me around before setting me down with my ass on the desk. Swallowing, I whisper, “You are just an overwhelming man, Dubh Burton. I never knew sex could feel this good. I’m not crying because I’m sad.” My voice skips. “I’m not crying because you’re hurting me. I’m crying because I’m… happy.”

Quote by Dolores Lane

Work

Bloody Fingers & Red Lipstick

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Dolores Lane

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“Please,” I gasped out. He just brushed his lips against my jaw, my neck, my mouth. “Tamlin,” I begged. He palmed my breast, his thumb flicking over my nipple. I cried out, and he buried himself in me with a mighty stroke. For a moment, I was nothing, no one. Then we were fused, two hearts beating as one, and I promised myself it always would be that way as he pulled out a few inches, the muscles of his back flexing beneath my hands, and then slammed back into me. Again and again. I broke and broke against him as he moved, as he murmured my name and told me he loved me. And when that lightning once more filled my veins, my head, when I gasped out his name, his own release found him. I gripped him through each shuddering wave, savoring the weight of him, the feel of his skin, his strength. For a while, only the rasp of our breathing filled the room. I frowned as he withdrew at last—but he didn’t go far. He stretched out on his side, head propped on a fist, and traced idle circles on my stomach, along my breasts.”