"You are my prisoner, Jack. The same overly curly pubic hair, which she now saw was trying to protrude from the sides of her bikini underwear. Old farmhouses loomed as they whizzed by, left behind in the gray like mourners. She tried not to pant, not to reveal herself, and she began to shake. Gashes on his arms were already beginning to heal and disappear. ” Brendon hesitated for a moment. E.
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