Crave: A Collection Of Wicked Desires

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Chapter 170

  Work was a bruise. Every chair felt like it had a ridge carved to remind me I was awake, and the fluorescent lights hummed in rhythm with the voice in my skull. He didn't shut up. He didn't need to. He had a front-row seat to every twitch, every little betrayal my body made.

  "Move your leg," he ...

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