He made a visible effort to control himself. I had the shotgun reloaded, but I let it swing down at my side. The ardeur had made that impossible. It had become my preferred sling for the bigger guns.
He came to his knees behind me, his arms still around my waist, spooning our bodies together. He used to pick up the older boys, the ones that were almost too old for the trade. Hard, deep, tongue searching my mouth. I am even certain that Damian planned none of it.
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