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Instead of pulling away blushing, Isabelle softened further—body arching toward Claire, small breasts pressing against Claire’s through their tops, nipples dragging through fabric as they shifted.
She returned the kiss with equal hunger—tongue plunging deeper, sucking Claire’s tongue into her mouth, swirling around it in slow, possessive strokes, sharing thick strings of saliva that connected their lips even when they pulled back for air.
Okay, I’m so freaking dead.
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