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Fiction
Top voted Fiction
#40901voted by our readers
By Jessica Pressman BRONZE
Westport, Connecticut
I can feel his raspberry lips. We lie in a tangled mess of limbs, but all I can think about are his lips, lingering on every inch of my body like the very cells themselves. He...
Westport, Connecticut
I can feel his raspberry lips. We lie in a tangled mess of limbs, but all I can think about are his lips, lingering on every inch of my body like the very cells themselves. He...