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... ’t looking at the ledgers. He wasn’t looking at the massive parchment map spread across his desk.
He was staring directly at perfectly fine ass swaying in front of him.
It was Ryana, the Merchant Queen who was leaning far over the desk, tracing trade routes with a feathered quill.
Her crimson dress was tailored tight, as it hugged her narrow waist and flared out over her wide, generous hips. As she stretched to reach the northern borders on the map, the silk pulled taut, ...
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