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Forty-four

The soft light of the morning sun filters through the curtains. Santo and Sunny are lying in bed, tangled in the sheets. Sunny lazily traces patterns on Santo’s chest, his eyes were closed so she couldn’t help but stare at his calm, peaceful form, the same form that shed tears in front of her yesterday, the same form that groaned in pleasure as he rammed into her, he suddenly stirred, his eyes slowly opened to meet her’s, sunny cleared her throat, trying to disperse of the dirty thoughts running through her head

“Morning, Sunshine. Sleep well?” Santo asked lowly. His fingers meet with her skin, slowly tracing it, sending shivers through her spine and making goosebumps appear on her skin.

Sunny smiled, “Like a baby. Though I think I could sleep another few hours after last night,” she said, running her fingers through his hair and massaging his scalp, emitting a low groan from him.

Santo grinned, “Oh, really? Because I distinctly remember you saying you could go all night,” he teased,
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