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... lably, tears streaming, voice hoarse and wrecked—while he kept railing her through it, refusing to slow, refusing to stop, refusing to let her come down.

The desk creaked dangerously beneath them. Papers scattered like frightened birds. The entire office smelled of sex—thick musk, salt, cream, sweat—and still he fucked her harder.

He didn’t slow. He didn’t ease up. He simply tightened his grip and fucked her harder—deeper—meaner.

His palms cracked down again on her bubbly ...

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