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He is moaning sighs and tensed thighs. Quivering need and shaken-breath supplication. Gasps and pleas and taut-muscled beseeching strain under the circular suede ministrations of wax-covered fingertips massaging buttery hot over satin-hard desire.
The candle melts.
Warmth pours forth.
Searing. Sensual. Seductive.
As are my hands, molding his arousal, reducing him to liquid heat under my touch.
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{Interpret as you will.}