Her eyes saw inside him, and, with her curves and arched back, she was like a cat teasing him. He felt powerful and didn't give a damn what it all meant. He did what he'd never done and didn't even have to pretend. What now? His sturdy fingers, with fragile tips, were strangely not threatening. His slender muscles, hair, breath and fumbling voice melted a psychic block, and she wanted to provoke and to listen for his longing. He was not her Other but her Equal. She did what she'd never done and didn't even have to pretend. What now?
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"Classic"
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