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... more surrender than protest. ’Damn, she’s tight,’ he thinks, a surge of satisfaction coursing through him. "That’s it, Auntie," he grunts, his voice rough against her ear. "Take it all."

Cassandra’s body clenches around him, her nails digging into his back, but not in resistance. ’He’s… inside me again,’ she thinks, a dizzying wave of heat washing over her. ’It feels… too good.’ Shame and pleasure war within her, but pleasure is winning, damn it.

"Resist, Cassandra," Alaric comma ...

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