What do you want?” he asked.I want. I want.She knew how to answer I should. I must. The occasional I need.Kay Denehy had never been an I want kind of girl.But she wanted now. The wanting squirmed over her skin from her scalp to her toes. It gathered heavily in her breasts and between her legs.“I’m scared,” she confessed, her voice barely audible.“I know. You don’t do this kind of thing.”She shook her head.“But you will now. With me.
-Pam McKenna
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