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pekkt:

“and a sister wife, at that,” she points out. some truth to the tale; they were never aware of the other at first, but boda IS a sister more than most other women can say. one that is practically the glue of her own marriage.

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the toe of her boot comes to rest on the lowest rung of jessica’s stool. sigyn presses forward, knee sliding between thighs effortlessly, like a puzzle piece that’s been waiting to fit snug in that right spot for ages.

“i’ll take you home. i live in a shitty loft two blocks away. i have a nice bed though and it needs to be christened by someone that might taste good. i’ll make you scream and fuck you senseless. in the morning i’ll cook you something to start your day right. i don’t leave my casual fucks hungry.”

sister wife – a foreign combination of words, brushed off in lieu of understanding. running their conversation into that sort of business could throw off the moment & there’s a lingering thirst yearning to be sated; one that can’t be quenched by hard liquor. it smolders like a livid, prowling beast, growling, snarling in the pit of her taut, flat belly. 

eyelids fall low at the other’s daring move, thin, dark brow arching to compliment her intrigue. to reciprocate the gesture, jessica’s closes those thighs over that invasive knee, sliding herself forward up against it. a quick look around the bar, no eyes on them from what she can tell. “ bold. “ jones says, more of a compliment than anything. 

whether it’s by luck or calculation that this strange woman has approached jessica – a person with considerable strength – has yet to be decided, but it doesn’t matter much at the moment.

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               “ what’s the hurry? “

incognito, hidden in a crowd. an exciting idea, definitely, but maybe the ginger just isn’t flexible enough for that. “ afraid to get started right now? “

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