kirawsummer
Updating every Friday!
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The only thing Ezra Ford knows is the Intelligence, and the Intelligence knows him. Trained to shoot dead where he aims, nothing and no one has ever stood in his path of vengeance. After all, being the most high ranked agent in the British Secret Service comes with a price.
Isadora Rinaldi comes from a life of crime and punishment. A forgotten princess cleaning blood off the floors, playing with knives and planning an escape from one of the most dangerous Italian families in the States sounds hard to believe, but Isadora's father is dead, and someone has to pay.
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"Fuck," he squeezes tightly, the rings digging into my skin, the tendons spreading beyond his knuckles and up his forearm. His chest heaves slowly, but his eyes are closed.
He continues to use my thigh as a stress ball, his hand moving to the upper, inner, fleshier parts of my thigh. He draws patterns, applies pressure in different ways, squeezes it to hell.
I force myself to focus on the very important task of stitching this man up, and not the warmth of his skin on mine, his breath on my neck. The sea of muscles running down his torso.