He gave me a small shake, his face raw with emotion. the ripeness of his fingers; barely enough to call it a kiss, but it wasn't his skin I tasted, or not the skin I was touching. You keep touching me. You think like your animal.
Or maybe, that wasn't it. He stood, one hand on the opposite wrist, as if he'd been doing it all night. Jason knelt by the end of the bed. Okay, you want to talk about it? I didn't take offense.
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