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It was a power trip knowing I could make him cum even when he was fighting not to. All the money in the world couldn't take away a call girl's power in this situation. It did more than make me turned on. I wanted to push him so hard he exploded cum in my mouth. I know my rhythm switched and I was sucking dick in hopes to get a huge mouthful. No other man had me so eager to choke on his dick and taste his cum. I know he got me so turned on my jaw didn't hurt after serious sucking and movement.I kept him so nice and sloppy wet with my spit. That part was easy. His dick made me drool. I was swimming in spit and I wanted to laugh. He was getting his monies worth. I had no clue I would love being a call girl. This was a wake-up call for me. Most men would've busted a nut with me in this situation. He wasn't most men. No wonder a desk pet only worked for two weeks. This fucker could break a woman's jaw. The more I got into it the more he pulled back. He wanted it slower but I didn't care.. Dalton had proven earlier that I was woefully unprepared for a direct encounter. Facing the Syndicate was a far cry from confronting Heisler over Katrina. Heisler only wanted to beat me into submission. Neil and the Syndicate, however, wanted me dead. Since talking was not likely to be an option, I had to be ready for violence.“The first thing I need to do is plan out which spells I need to cast to protect us,” I said. “We can talk without being overheard, but that doesn’t stop anyone from knocking down the front door and shooting the place up. And, to feel better about everyone’s safety at least for tonight, I want security and protective spells on Milena’s, Jordan and Danielle’s, and Faith’s apartments. On top of all that, since we’re not all in the same building, I want a way to detect when Neil or anyone else from the Syndicate arrives.”“What kind of protective spells?” Dalton asked.“What’s the Detection spell supposed to detect?” Emma asked.I shook my head. “I don’t know,” I told.
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He recognized the woman—it was his sweet wife, Jenna. The young girl who was about to have her precious life torn from her—from them—was his Amanda, his daughter—his baby. He wanted to turn away but could not. He was a good man—a man who believed in God and took his religion seriously—as did his wife and young daughter. He had never—never would—ask God for anything for himself—or to perform some sort of impossible miracle. He was a practical man. As his only child’s awful death became inevitable he said aloud, ‘Please God, don’t make her suffer.’ At that very second it was if time suddenly stood still. The young man racing in vain to rescue his daughter looked up at him one last time, smiled—and flew. It was far too great a distance to have jumped—he had flown. He moved so quickly that he became, for that instant, invisible. He was now, somehow, calmly walking toward Jenna with Amanda in his arms. The young man turned briefly to look at the giant machine—still moving out of control..

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