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Cammille's usefulness

Maxwell didn't mind Camille's furious look, but he felt he had to say something.

“What happened?”

“Why did you put your clothes on? You can't leave without making me feel the same way you made me feel when we were still in our country!” She said angrily.

Maxwell rolled his eyes.

“Masturbate, Camille. Use your imagination. I don't have time for that. My visits are always rushed, and I can't guarantee your pleasure every time we go to bed.”

“That's the response of a true scoundrel!”

“Be a good girl, and don't leave this room. Anything you want to eat, or need, you can order over the phone.” He said and pointed to the bedside table. “The receptionist who will see you speaks your language and will arrange everything you need.”

Camille stood up with her hair mussed, and Maxwell found her more beautiful than the day he had first penetrated her, her eyes blazing with fury, it was exciting. He felt his desire return, as if he were still a teenager, but he couldn't linger any lon
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