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“A hot damp touch on my stomach, another kiss. Then it’s my shoulder, my neck. I feel myself soaring upwards, literally, this time, because Alex is lifting me up. He does this often; he loves carrying me in his arms. It is at moments like these that he probably feels I belong to him and him alone.” — Victoria Sobolev
A hot damp touch on my stomach, another kiss. Then it’s my shoulder, my neck. I feel myself soaring upwards, literally, this time, because Alex is lifting me up. He does this often; he loves carrying me in his arms. It is at moments like these that he probably feels I belong to him and him alone.