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... off Dean’s shirt, my fingers barely keeping up with the frantic need consuming me. He helped, his muscles flexing as he pulled it over his head, but before it could even hit the floor, my mouth crashed back onto his. Desperate. Starving. Wild.

I sucked at his lips, nipping his lower one hard enough to make him groan, my hands already fumbling with his pants. My fingers brushed over his bulging hardness, straining against the fabric, and a wicked thrill shot straight between my legs. Fuc ...

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