Mark prowled toward him. His movements graceful but predatory. The muscles of his body bunched and flexed with each step. His chest gleamed in the moonlight, broad, bronzed, and sprinkled with a light dusting of hair. The jeans he wore were threadbare and rode low on his hips doing nothing to conceal the rather impressive cock that was concealed beneath the fly. The worn blue fabric molded to the contours of his shaft like a second skin.
Evil bastard knew exactly what he was doing.
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