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... Not even a little.

I may have overestimated my self-control. Severely.

The sight before me is... inhumane. Cruel. Designed by some divine entity intent on testing the very limits of my sanity.

Noelle sits in the chair across from me—bare, bound by my will, breathless. The soft lamplight catches on the sheen of sweat at his collarbone, dances along the open curve of his robe, and pools in the hollow of his throat like a temptation carved by the gods themselves.

He ...

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