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Majestria was resting her chin on the top of Finn’s head, her sweat dripping down onto him like divine condensation from a heavenly armpit.
In most cases, he would’ve died for this kind of intimacy—but right now, this was despair. Pure, uncut, soul-wrenching agony. Never in his life had he wanted a shower this badly. Or a hazmat suit.
They were deep within the forest heading to who-knows-where. Finn had taken a random guess and just committed, like a guy clicking "Accept All ...
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