Tall, Tatted and Tempting 3 страница

She shakes her head. “You are not fondling my panties, perv,” she says, grinning. “Next thing I know, you’ll be sniffing them.” She laughs. I wish I could hear it, because it’s probably the most beautiful sound in the world. It’s not often I wish I could hear, because I can do almost anything I want. But right now, I wish I could hear the sound of her laughter.

I motion to her and she walks out with me to the hallway, where I open the door to the laundry closet. I take what’s in the dryer out, and put it on top. Look like Sam and Pete’s stuff and they can handle their own clothes. I flip what’s in the washer to the dryer, and ask her for her things by holding out my hands. She shakes her head. I step to the side and she starts to take a few things from her bag. She doesn’t have much – just a few shirts, some shorts, a pair of jeans, and what she was wearing today. And the throws in a few pairs of panties. There’s more Betty Boop and I grin at her and shake my head.

I dump in some laundry soap and she starts it, and then she walks back toward my bedroom. “Do you have a blanket I can put on the floor?” she asks.

What the hell? “Why?” I ask.

She looks at me like I’ve grown two heads. “To sleep on?”

“You are not sleeping on the floor,” I tell her. “You take the bed. I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“The couch is about five feet long. You’re too tall. I can sleep on the couch.” She nods like she’s made up her mind.

I grab her arm gently as she goes to walk by me. “No,” I say. “You take the bed.”

The bed is full size, so it’s not the biggest bed in the world. She draws her lower lip between her teeth and nibbles it. That has to be one of the most erotic things I’ve ever seen. I reach out and touch her lower lip with my thumb, gently pulling it from between her teeth. She licks her lips and looks everywhere but at me.

“Are you sure this is all right with you?” she asks.

I lean close to her and pull her into my chest. I don’t know why I feel the need to do that, but I do. She hesitates briefly and then wraps her arms around my waist. I kiss her gently on the forehead. She looks up at me and she looks almost lost. The color is high in her cheeks and she steps back. “Thank you,” she says. She stands up on tiptoe and kisses my cheek almost like it’s an afterthought.

That kiss touches me like the deepest tongue kiss never has. It’s like my breath is trapped in my throat and I can’t draw it in or out.

“Are you all right?” she asks.

“Fine,” I say. But I’m anything but fine. She raises her arms to lift her wet hair from her neck and her boobs shift beneath her shirt. I’m instantly hard. “Let me know if you need anything?” I say. But I’m not looking at her anymore. I’m walking toward the door as fast as I can, before she notices that I’m getting hard just thinking about the fact that she doesn’t have a bra on.

She touches my arm and says, “Logan, please don’t tell anyone that I can’t read, ok?” She looks worried and I hate it for her. I hate that she even has to worry about things like this.

“That was between me and you,” I tell her. I like that it’s our secret. Kind of like my talking is.

She closes the door behind me and I hear the thumb lock on the door click. She just locked me out of my own room. I can’t say I blame her really. She’s in a strange place. And she’s surrounded by strange men. But there’s a piece of me that’s glad she locked the door.

I walk back to the living room, taking a blanket with me from the linen closet.

“I still can’t believe you’re going to sleep on the couch,” Paul says.

I can’t believe it either. But I am.

I’ve been lying in Logan’s bed for what feels like hours, but I can’t sleep. I heard Pete when he came home, and I heard Paul tell him to go to bed. Then the apartment got quiet. No one has made a sound for hours, until now. I think it’s Matthew, because it sounds like quick, muffled footsteps and then an awful gagging noise.

I open the door and look out, the bathroom door is open about an inch, and I’m pretty sure that’s Matthew in there getting sick. He’s miserable, and I want to help him, but I also don’t want to intrude. I tiptoe into the kitchen because I’m thirsty, and I look over at the sofa, where Logan is sleeping. His feet are hanging off the edge by about a foot, and he’s flat on his back, his head bolstered by the arm of the couch. He doesn’t even have a pillow.

I open the fridge and bend over see what they have to drink, and when I stand up, Matthew is looking at me over the top of the door. “What are you doing?” he asks. His eyes are rimmed in red and bloodshot, and his face is pale.

“Getting something to drink,” I whisper. “Can I get you anything?”

He shakes his head. His gaze darts down to my bare legs, and I tug on the hem of Logan shirt. “Nice shirt,” he says. He jerks a thumb toward Logan. “Did you two have a fight?”

I look over at Logan too. He’s sleeping soundly, his mouth hanging open. “No,” I whisper. “Why would you think that?”

“Wait.” He stops like he’s thinking about something. “Why are you still here? Are you spending the night?”

I nod, lifting a bottle of water to my lips.

“Logan’s girls never spend the night.” He looks amused. But I don’t understand why.

“He insisted,” I whisper.

“Why are you whispering?” he whispers loudly and dramatically.

“Logan’s asleep,” I reply.

“He’s deaf.” He grins.

Oh, yeah. I forgot. It’s so easy to forget that he can’t hear. I laugh and shrug.

Suddenly, he turns on his heel and runs back to the bathroom. He’s sick again, but it sounds like his stomach is empty. I open drawers beside the sink until I find a drawer with towels in it. I wet one with some cool water, and I meet him when he’s coming out of the bathroom with it. He takes it from me with a heavy sigh and dabs his face with it. “Do you need anything?” I ask.

“Ginger ale,” he says. “There’s some in the fridge.”

I nod and go back in that direction. While I’m there, I grab an empty margarita mix bucket off the counter. I start down the hallway, and assume his door is the one with the open doorway. He’s sitting on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands. I put the bucket in front of him. “For later,” I say.

“Thanks,” he says as he takes a sip of the ginger ale. I take the towel from his hands and go back to the bathroom, getting it cold again. When I go back in the room, he’s laying down, so I gently put the towel on his forehead and turn to walk out. “Don’t break his heart,” he says.

He’s puking his guts out and all he’s worried about is me breaking Logan’s heart.

“I’m just here for the night,” I say.

He snorts. It comes out more like a snuffle. But I get it. He doesn’t believe me. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he says.

I turn out his light as I leave the room, and close the door behind me.

The washer has stopped quite some time before, and I take what’s in the dryer out and see that the pile on top of the washer is growing. I can’t see letting their things get all wrinkled, so I stand there and fold them, and I fold what’s coming out of the dryer, too. I flip my laundry into the dryer, and then I remember the huge pile of laundry in the hallway, so I start a load of their things. Might as well. I’m not doing anything else.

I walk back to the kitchen, and Logan is snoring. His hair hangs all tousled over his forehead, and I wonder if his mother ever used to watch him sleep like this.

The kitchen is a mess, so I grab a trash bag from the pantry and start packing pizza boxes away. Then I put up all the food that’s on the counter, and give it a good scrub. The kitchen is all nice and sparkly before I go back to bed.

I yawn and close the bedroom door behind me. But this time, I don’t feel the need to lock it.

***

The bed dips in the middle of the night, and I startle awake. My heart starts pounding like a jackhammer and I scoot to the edge of the bed. “What are you doing?” I ask.

It’s Logan, and the room is dark, so he can’t see my face or hear my voice. He rolls to his side, away from me, snuggling deeply into the pillow. He makes this adorable smacking noise with his mouth as he settles. He reaches back and jerks the blankets off of me, tugging them onto him.

He doesn’t really think he’s going to sleep in here, does he? I could go and get on the couch, but he’s already snoring. He’s sound asleep. I lean up and look into his face. He doesn’t stir. He’s not going to try to put the moves on me. He’s just going to sleep.

I roll over, curling into myself, because it’s chilly without a blanket. I could go and get the one from the couch, I guess. I know he had one out there. But I’m afraid I’ll wake him if I get up. I grab the edge of the blanket he just stole from me and pull it back over to my side, just enough to cover half of me. He doesn’t move. So, it must be all right.

I wake up slowly, immediately aware there’s a warm body pressed against mine. I raise my head and look down at the leg thrown across my thighs. There’s a delicate arm wrapped across my chest, and a black head of hair with a blue streak tucked under my chin, right beside my heart.

Her thigh is naked and it feels so fucking good that I don’t want to move. Her shampoo tickles my nose and I wonder how I ended up in bed with her. I know all we did was sleep. My guess is that I got up to pee in the middle of the night and came back to my bed by accident. How she got wrapped around me is another story.

I lay my head back against the pillow and look up at my cracked ceiling. I didn’t mean for this to happen. And I don’t want her to think that I just want her in my bed. That I only want to sleep with her. But I do want to sleep with her. Right now, I want to roll her over and slide the pink panties she made me turn around for last night slowly down her legs. I want to kiss her from the soles of her feet to the insides of her thighs. I look down at her thigh again. I can’t resist it. I reach out and lay my hand on it. She wiggles and presses harder against me, her breasts cushioned by my chest.

I’m so freaking hard that all the blood in my body is pulsing in my dick. Shit.

The sun is coming up, so my brothers will be moving around soon. They’ll never let me hear the end of it if they find me in here. I started off on the couch, and swore I would stay there.

Shit.

I just wanted to keep her safe and now she’s in bed with me. Or I’m in bed with her.

Involuntarily, I clench her thigh in my grasp. I turn onto my side to face her, and hitch her thigh up higher over my hip. I need to slide out from under her arm. But then her brown eyes blink open. We’re face to face. She doesn’t seem startled. “You stole the covers,” she says.

She has morning breath, and I’ve never wanted to kiss someone so bad in my life. “Why are you in my arms?” I ask.

She looks around like she’s not quite sure, and she bites her lower lip between her teeth again. I pull it out very gently with my thumb and she licks her lips, just like she did last night. “I was cold. And you were warm.”

“I started out on the couch,” I say.

She nods, leaning close to me, burying her face in my chest. She inhales deeply, her breath moving through the thin material of my t-shirt when she exhales. Did she just sniff me?

“You smell good,” she mouths, looking up at me so I can see her lips.

She did just sniff me. I can’t help it. I palm her ass and draw her closer to me. “Do you always wake up so sweet?” I ask. She’s like cotton candy in my arms. She smells soft and clean and she’s not shoving me away.

“I’m not awake yet,” she mouths. She spins over in my arms, facing away from me. My forearm is under her head and her bottom is tucked against my groin. Her head is beneath my chin, and I can’t see her face anymore. But I doubt she’s talking. She’s soft in my arms, and her breath rushes out of her open mouth with every exhale, searing my forearm with her every breath.

The bottoms of her feet are cold against the tops of mine, so I unfurl the blanket over us both, tucking it around her, throwing it over our feet.

I don’t want to let her go. But I know I need to get up. I need to go back to the couch. I close my eyes and brush her hair down between us.

She lets me wrap around her, and by her own admissions she’s still asleep. Will it hurt to stay there? I keep holding her. I’ve never had a girl sleep the whole night in my bed before. Ever. I’ve never woken up with someone. I’ve never wanted to. Until now.

I settle my arm around her waist. I’ll just stay a few more minutes.

***

My bedroom door slams open, and I feel its thwump as it hits the wall. Paul is a bear in the morning, and he doesn’t wake anyone up easily. He goes around, throwing open doors and turning on lights until the twins are up and ready for school. They’re both seniors in high school and have to be there early. I look up at him as he stops in my doorway.

I knew you wouldn’t stay on the couch the whole night, he signs to me. He doesn’t say it out loud. Probably so he won’t wake her up. Kit’s asleep on her stomach, her hand tucked beneath the pillow and one leg pushed out to the side. I sit up and look down at her. My AC/DC shirt has risen up around her waist, and one side of her pink panties has migrated to tuck in the crack of her ass. Her left ass cheek is on display, the firm, round globe taught but relaxed. I toss the blanket over her bottom as I get up.

Shut up, I sign to Paul.

I reach over and grab my jeans, shoving my legs into them quickly. I put on my boxers before I went to sleep last night.

Paul is wearing a pair of lounge pants and no shirt. When I get to the kitchen, the twins are eating bowls of cereal, both in their boxers.

Put some clothes on, I sign to them. Kit’s still here.

“That’s her name? Kit?” Sam asks.

I shake my head. I don’t think so. I’m pretty sure that’s not her name. It’s what some guy on the street called her.

“Where’s she from?” Pete asks.

I don’t know. She won’t tell me.

Paul motions to the couch. “How’d you sleep?” He grins.

My neck still hurts from being on the couch. Fine, I say.

“She slept in your bed. With you.” Paul’s grin has turned into a glare.

I nod. Not the whole night. Just part of it. I fumble for a cup of coffee, but the coffee pot’s not where we left it. What the fuck happened to the kitchen?

Paul has his hip hitched against the counter top and he’s staring at me. “We woke up to it looking like this.” He motions toward the expanse that is our clean countertop. I can’t remember the last time I saw the Formica.

Where is all the stuff?

He opens the pantry door and points inside. She put it all away? The sink is empty of dishes, until Sam puts his bowl in it. Put it in the dish washer, I tell him. If she worked this hard to clean the kitchen, we can try to keep it looking like this, can’t we?

“Aww, man,” Sam complains. But he opens the dish washer and puts his bowl in there.

“You two get to school,” Paul says. He shoos them toward their room so they can get dressed. “Next time, put some clothes on before you come out of your rooms,” he warns. He looks at me. “How long will Kit be here?”

Paul looks over my shoulder and smiles at something. I turn around and see that it’s Kit. She’s all rumpled and she has a dent in her cheek from the crease of the pillow case. “I’ll leave today,” she says. She walks toward the coffee pot, which is now on a different counter. Granted, it’s more convenient where she put it, but it’s still not where it goes. She takes out a coffee cup and pours herself a full mug, and then she turns and says, “Thank you for letting me stay last night. I appreciate it.”

I want to ask her about cleaning the kitchen and tell her thank you, but I can’t use my voice in front of my brothers.

“She cleaned the bathroom, too,” Sam says as he comes around the corner. His hair is wet and he leans toward me. “Do I smell too much like a girl?” he asks. He looks slightly abashedly at Kit. “I used your shampoo. And your soap.”

Paul shoves him in the shoulder. “He would have used your tampons if you’d left any in there.”

Her face colors prettily.

“Stay out of her stuff, dickwad,” Paul warns.

Paul adjusts his jeans. “She folded my jeans. It doesn’t feel quite right wearing something that wasn’t rolled up in a ball in the basket in the corner of the room.”

I glare at her. She did all this while we were sleeping? I want to tell her she doesn’t have to work to stay here.

“What?” she asks. “I couldn’t sleep.”

She was sleeping pretty well in my arms. I don’t want to think about that, because I can’t get over the fact that I liked it as much as I did.

Sam leans over and kisses her on the cheek, just as Pete kisses her other cheek. She scrunches up her face, but she doesn’t slap either of them. “I vote that we let her stay another day,” Pete says. He looks down at her naked legs. Honestly, I’ve seen women at night clubs show a lot more skin than she’s showing. “She’s cute,” he says. Then he grabs a banana off the counter and runs for the door. Sam is right behind him. He closes the door behind him and Sam sticks his head back in. “I second that vote,” Sam says. Then the door slams and they’re gone.

Kit smiles and looks over my shoulder. Matt is up, and he looks like death warmed over. “I third,” he says as he sits down in a chair and puts his face in his hands.

Paul shrugs. “It’s fine with me,” Paul says. “But it’s Logan’s call. It’s his bed.”

Paul leaves to get ready for work. I have to do the same, but I don’t have to go in until eleven. Paul goes early every day because he has to do paperwork.

Kit gets a ginger ale from the fridge and pours it into a glass. She hands it to Matt and he smiles faintly, and says, “Thank you.” She doesn’t say anything back, but she squeezes his shoulder. What’s going on with the two of them? He won’t let us do a damn thing for him, but he’s letting Kit get him something to drink?

She smiles and walks back to the bedroom, taking her coffee with her.

“She’s going to break your fucking heart, man,” Matt warns after she closes the door.

I know. She’s going to break my fucking heart. Because I’ve never wanted anything with anyone the way I want something I can’t even define with her.

Waking up in his arms was one of the best moments of my life. I didn’t want to wake up. I wanted to stay like that forever. So when he asked me questions about how we came to be tucked into one another, I pretended like I was asleep and rolled over, hoping he would wrap his arm around me. He did. He wrapped his whole body around me. I purposefully chose to turn away so I wouldn’t have to explain. Because I didn’t want to tell him about how I felt him when he got in bed with me. Or how I reached out to touch him in the night, and he let me put my head on his chest.

I didn’t intend to wrap my body around him, but he didn’t seem displeased by it. If the tent in his boxers was any indication, he was very pleased by it.

But even after, he was nothing but respectful about my body.

I come out of his bedroom dressed in my school girl outfit. It’s clean now, so I didn’t mind putting it back on. Aside from the fact that putting it on means I’m leaving his apartment. My bag is over my shoulder and my guitar case is in my hand. No one is there aside from the two of us. Paul went to work an hour ago. And Matt is staying home today, I’m sure. He’s too sick to hold his head up, much less go work with the public. He must be in his room, because Logan is sitting at the table reading the newspaper. He looks up when I walk out of the bedroom, and his face falls.

He makes a gesture with his hands like he’s asking me what.

“I have to go,” I explain. I hold up my guitar. “I have to go to work. And you have to go to work. And I’m sure you don’t want me hanging out while you’re not here. What if I steal something?” I try to laugh it off, but he’s not amused.

“You don’t have to go,” he says. “Stay.” He gets up and comes to stand in front of me.

I hold up the guitar again. “I can’t. I have to work.” I only have thirty two dollars to my name. I can’t find a decent place to stay on that. Not even for a night.

Like he can read my mind, he pulls out his wallet and flips it open. He takes money out of it and tries to press it in my hand. I can’t take his money. “Stay,” he says. He wants me to stay instead of going to busk for change.

I shake my head. It’s hard to explain it to him. I want so badly to stay. But I can’t. I can’t get comfortable anywhere. Because tomorrow, I might have to leave again. “Thank you for letting me sleep here,” I whisper. I know he can’t hear the quality of my voice, but he can still read my lips. He tips my chin up with his forefinger under my jaw so that I look at him. “Thank you,” I repeat.

“Come back tonight?” he asks. He’s holding my hand, his thumb swiping back and forth across the surface of it. “I’ll sleep on the couch. I promise.”

I look up at him, swallowing hard. “I liked it when you were in the bed with me,” I admit.

His eyes narrow and he looks closer at me than I think anyone ever has. But he doesn’t say anything else.

“I think I’m in like,” I admit softly. That’s probably the wrong thing to say. But I need to tell him. I didn’t just use him for a place to sleep. I genuinely could care about him if my situation was different. But it’s not. And I can’t.

He doesn’t understand the terminology, I think, because he looks confused. “What?” he asks.

“I think I’m in like,” I repeat. But he still looks just as confused.

He looks like he’s going to get Matthew to translate. I stop him by jerking on his arm. “I like you,” I say clearly. “That’s why I’m leaving. I wouldn’t be any good for you or for your brothers. I like you too much to stay.”

“That’s ridiculous,” he says.

Yeah, it’s ridiculous. But he doesn’t know where I come from. He doesn’t know how many people are looking for me and why. And when he does find out – I have no doubts that he will – he’ll hate me for not telling him everything up front.

“Have dinner with me?” he says, his brows shooting up. He looks hopeful, and that’s not what I want for him. He bends his knees so he can look into my face. “Dinner?” he repeats, like I might not have understood him. “A date,” he says. “Go on a date with me.”

I shake my head. I shouldn’t like him so much after such a short time, but I see possibilities there where before I had none. He makes me believe I could have a real connection with someone. Well, maybe if I was someone else. But I’m not. So I can’t.

“Thank you for letting me sleep here,” I say. “And do my laundry and take a shower. I really appreciate it. Will you tell your brothers thank you for me?”

His hand falls away from me, and I feel like someone just untethered my anchor and I’m going to float away. He nods. He walks back over to the table and sits down, and begins turning the pages of the newspaper. He’s not looking at me anymore and I feel the loss like someone chopped off my arm.

I let myself out and lean heavy against the wall outside his door. I can’t bring him into my life. It’s not good for him. Not for any of them. This is the way it has to be.

***

My ass is cold again, even though I’m wearing black leggings under my plaid mini skirt. It’s freezing in the subway, and I’m sitting on my bag to keep my butt off the cold concrete. But it’s still seeping into me. I have made forty-two dollars today, though, and it’s a good day. I must have looked utterly miserable, because people have been putting money in my case like I’m homeless. Well, I am, but it’s not like I’m holding a sign that says “I’m hungry.”

It’s a little after seven o’clock, and I’ve been here since I left Logan’s apartment. My hands are tired, and I can’t help but think to myself that I had better get moving. The after-work crowd has passed, and the drunks tend to come out after dark. So, I never feel safe in the subway when it starts to get late. I gather up my things and put my guitar away. I pocket the money I made today. It’s getting colder outside as fall settles on the city, and I don’t have a coat. So, I can either use the money I have to get a motel room, or I can go to the thrift store and try to find a used coat that I can use to keep warm as the weather changes. If I do that, I’ll be sleeping in the shelter again, provided that they have room.

So, it’s coat, shelter, and back to the subway for me tomorrow.

Someone calls my name as I walk up the steps of the tunnel and I turn to find Bone standing by the lamppost. “How’s it going, Kit?” he asks. His eyes rake down my body, and my insides revolt.

“Fine,” I say quickly. “Did you need something?”

He shakes his head, biting his lips together. “You have somewhere to stay tonight?” he asks.

He asks me this every time he sees me, like he’s going to catch me at a vulnerable moment and I’ll take him up on whatever he’s offering. I don’t even know what he’s offering, but I know it won’t do me any good. “I do, but thanks for asking.”

“Any time, Kit,” he says. He turns and walks away, his arm around some girl’s shoulders. She looks strung out. And I’d be willing to bet that’s how he likes them.

I walk through the city, wandering toward the shelter. I know it’s right around the corner from where Logan works. I can’t help but walk by there. The lights are on inside and there are still people walking around. I slow down, hoping I can get a look at him. I just want to see him. I know he probably hates me. But I want to see that he’s walking around, breathing and maybe even laughing.

The neon sign over the building says Reed’s. Makes me wonder if that’s their last name. Paul walks to the door and lifts a hand at me without opening it. He tilts his head and looks at me. A bit too closely. He pushes the door open and speaks through the crack. “Are you coming in?”

I shake my head. “I shouldn’t.”

He nods. “You shouldn’t. But you are.” He motions me forward. “He’s in the back.”

It’s like my feet have a mind of their own. I walk toward the back of the store, and the girl at the front desk shoots me a heated glance. I ignore her. There’s a curtain in the back of the shop, and I’m guessing that’s where he is. I push it slowly to the side. He can’t hear me and he’s facing away. But there’s a woman on the table who’s naked from the waist up. He’s standing in front of her with his arm wrapped around her; his hand is busy around her right breast.

“Shit,” I say. I feel like someone has just punched me in the gut. The lady on the table startles and Logan looks up. I have no choice but to leave. I’ve done nothing but think about this man all day long, and he’s with one of his skanks. I knew he had them. But seeing his hands on one of them is worse. I have no right to claim him. I didn’t even plan to come and find him. Paul insisted. Did Paul know what I would walk into?

Paul steps into my path as I run toward the door. “Kit,” he says, blocking me from leaving with his body in front of me.

I put up my hands to ward him off. I can’t take a deep breath, much less stop to talk to him. Before I can get to the front door, Logan runs from the back of the shop to the front, chasing after me. I can hear his feet on the laminate floor.

Logan reaches for me, taking my elbow in a tight but gentle grip.

Tears are stinging the backs of my lashes. I don’t know why they are. But they are. And I don’t want him to see. He holds up a finger telling me to wait. I can’t wait. If I wait, he’ll see me break down.

He takes my hand in a firm grip and starts to tow me toward the back of the store. He pushes the curtain to the side, and I see that the woman is still sitting exactly like he left her. Only now she’s holding a thin piece of paper over her breasts. “Hi,” she says. He points toward a chair and indicates that he wants me to sit.

I shake my head. “No.”

He points toward the chair again. I drop into it because I feel like my legs won’t hold me up anymore and that’s the only reason.

He turns back to the woman and urges the paper down. He’s tattooing her nipple. I look away. “It’s all right,” the woman says. “He did beautiful work. I don’t mind if you see it.”

He’s doing a tattoo. Of course he is. All the breath rushes from my body in a huge exhale. He’s doing a tattoo. I look over his shoulder as he’s finishing up. He’s not just tattooing her nipple. The tattoo is her nipple. What the hell?

“Double mastectomy,” she explains. “Logan does free tattoos for mastectomy patients.” She arches her back, pressing her breasts out. “What do you think?”

They look like real nipples. The shading around the edges is perfect, and he’s drawn a simple nipple with a large areola. But there’s nothing simple about it. It’s a work of art. The color is the same shade as her lips, and I can’t believe how real they look. “Wow,” I say. What do you say? Nice nipples? Beautiful boobs? “That’s amazing.”

Дата добавления: 2014-12-24