Sana was fucked.
Why else would she dream of running her fingers through Dax’s perfect hair as he sponged kisses on the insides of her thighs and wake up breathless, aching? She held her head between her knees and tugged the roots of her hair. Ever since the kiss, she had been unable to stop replaying it in her head. She’d done it so much that now she was having wet dreams about him. Dammit.
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