
Vara Kane's loft was a raw sanctuary, its exposed brick and steel beams bathed in the neon glow filtering through floor-to-ceiling windows. The air was heavy with the scent of leather and her own musk, the hum of the city a distant pulse. Sprawled on her king-sized bed, Vara was naked, her black tank top and jeans discarded, her 9-inches hard and throbbing,
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