Over 18 – Hot Scenes

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(Not for persons unter 18 – please stop reading if you’re unter this age. Thanks/
Nicht für Personen unter 18 Jahren geeignet. Bitte nicht weiterlesen, wenn du unter 18 Jahre bist. Danke)
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English Scenes

(other Scenes in German further down/
andere Szenen in Deutsch weiter unten)

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© Dreamfever (Fever # 4) – Karen Marie Moning

Mac as a Pri-ya – together with Jericho Barrons ;p

I am alive. I am so alive. I have never been more alive in my life. I sit, cross-legged, nude, in a tangle of silk sheets. Life is a sensual banquet and I am voracious. I glisten with sweat and satisfaction. But I need more. My lover is too far away. He is bringing me food. I do not know why he insists. I need nothing but his body, his electric touch, the primitive, intimate things he does to me. His hands on me, his teeth and tongue, and most especially what hangs heavy between his legs. Sometimes I kiss it. Lick it. Then he glistens with sweat and hunger and strains beneath my mouth. I hold down his hips and tease. It makes me feel powerful and alive. „―You are the most beautiful man I‘ve ever seen,“ I tell him. „―You are perfect.“
He makes a strangled sound and mutters something about how I might seriously reconsider that at some point. I ignore it. He says many mystifying things. I ignore them all. I admire the preternatural grace of his body. Dark, strong, he pads like a great beast, muscles rippling. Black and crimson symbols cover much of his skin. It‘s exotic, exciting. He is large. The first time I almost couldn‘t take him. He fills me, sates me completely. Until he is no longer inside me and I am empty again.
I push onto all fours and arch my rump invitingly. I know he cannot resist my ass. When he looks at it, he gets a funny look on his face. Savage, his mouth tightens, his eyes harden. Sometimes he looks away sharply.
But he always looks back.
Hard, fast, hungry like me.

„Eat“, he growls.
„Don‘t want food“, I growl back. I tire of him making me eat. I reach for him. I am strong. My body is sure. But this fine beast is stronger than me. I savor his power, when he lifts me on top of him, when he holds me down and fills me, when he‘s behind me, driving deep. I want him there now. He knows no limits. Though I have drowsed, I have never seen him sleep. Though I demand incessantly, he is always able to please me. He is inexhaustible. „I want more. You. Come here. Now.“ There goes my rump again. Up.
He stares. He curses. „No, Mac“, he says.
I do not know what ‚Mac‘ means.
But I know what ’no‘ means. And I do  not like it.
I pout. But it quickly curves into a smile. I know a secret. For a beast of such power, his selfcontrol with me is weak. I have learned this in our time together. I wet my lips, give him a look, and he makes that raw, angry-sounding noise deep in his throat that makes my blood hot, hot, hot, because every time he makes it I know he‘s just about to give me what I want. He cannot resist me. It bothers him. He is an odd animal.
Lust  is, I tell him, again and again. I try to make him understand.
„There‘s more to life than lust, Mac“, he says roughly, again and again. There is that word ‚Mac‘ again. So many words I do not understand. I weary of talk. I tune him out.
He gives me what I want. Then forces me to eat— boring!  I humor him. Belly full, I am sleepy. I tangle my body with his. But when I do, lust takes me again, and I cannot sleep. I roll on top of him, straddle him, breasts swaying over his face. His eyes glaze and I smile. He traps me beneath him in a smooth graceful roll, stretches my arms above my head, and stares into my eyes. I grind my hips up. He is hard and ready. He is  always hard and ready.
„Be still, Mac. Bloody hell, would you just be still?“
„But you‘re not  in me”,  I complain.
„And I‘m not going to be.“
„Why not? You want me.“
„You need rest.“
„Rest later.“
He closes his eyes. A muscle works in his jaw. He opens his eyes. They glitter like arctic night.

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© Dark Lover (BD # 1) – J. R. Ward

Between Beth and Wrath

God, everything about him radiated sex, from the strength in his body to the way he moved to the smell of his skin. He was like no man she’d ever come across before. And her body knew it just as clearly as her mind did. „Kiss me,“ she said.
He hovered above her, a silent menace. On impulse her hands went to the lapels of his jacket, and she tried to pull him down to her mouth.
He captured both her wrists in one of his hands. „Easy.“
Easy? She didn’t want easy. Easy was not part of the plan. She struggled against his hold, and when she couldn’t get free she arched her back. Her breasts strained against her T-shirt, and she rubbed her thighs together, anticipating what it would feel like to have him between them. If he’d only put his hands— „Sweet Jesus,“ he muttered.
She smiled up at him, relishing the sudden hunger in his face. „Touch me.“

The stranger started shaking his head. As if he were trying to clear it. She opened her lips and moaned in frustration. „Pull up my shirt.“ She arched again, offering her body to him, dying to know if there was something even hotter inside of her, something he could bring out with his hands. „Do it.“
He took the cigarillo from his mouth. His eyebrows were drawn tight, and she had some vague thought that she should be terrified. Instead, she brought her knees up and lifted her hips off the futon. She imagined him kissing the insides of her thighs, finding her sex with his mouth. Licking her. Another moan boiled out of her mouth.
….
Wrath was dumbfounded.
She groaned again, her body undulating in a sexy wave, her legs opening wide. The scent of her arousal hit him hard as a body shot. God, he would have been sent to his knees if he hadn’t already been sitting down.
„Touch me,“ she moaned.
Wrath’s blood pumped as if he were in a flat-out run, his erection throbbing like it had its own heartbeat. „That’s not what I’m here for,“ he said.
„Touch me anyway.“
He knew he should say no. This wasn’t fair to her. And they needed to talk. Maybe he should come back later in the night. She arched up, pushing against the hand he’d clamped around her wrists. As her breasts strained against her T-shirt, he had to close his eyes.
Time to go. It was really time to— Except he couldn’t leave without at least having a taste. Yeah, but he was a selfish bastard if he laid one finger on her. A nasty selfish bastard to take any of what she was offering in the haze of smoke. With a curse, Wrath opened his eyes. Man, he was so cold. Cold down to his marrow. And she was hot. Hot enough to make that ice go away, at least for a little while. And it had been so long for him.
He carefully balanced the cigarillo on the edge of the table next to them and let her wrists go. Her hands grabbed his jacket, trying to push it back from his shoulders. He wrenched the thing off, and as it hit the floor with a thud, she laughed with satisfaction. His holster of daggers followed, but he kept that within reach of the futon. Wrath bent down over her. Her breath was sweet and minty as he captured her lips with his mouth. He dropped a soft kiss to the healing bruise and then drew his tongue down her neck. This time when she thrust her breasts out, he slid his hand under her thin shirt and onto her smooth, warm skin. Her belly was flat, and he spanned it with his hand, filling the space between her hip bones. Greedy to know the rest of her, he peeled her shirt off and tossed it aside. Her bra was pale in color, and he traced the edges of it with his fingertips before cupping the creamy swells with his hands. Her breasts filled his palms, her nipples tight buds underneath the soft satin. Wrath’s control snapped.
He bared his fangs, let out a hiss, and bit through the bra’s front closure. The thing snapped back, and he latched onto one of her nipples with his lips, drawing it into his mouth. As he suckled, he shifted his body and stretched out on top of her, falling in between her legs. She absorbed his weight with a throaty sigh. Her hands came between them as she reached for the front of his shirt, but he didn’t have the patience to let her undress him. He lifted up and ripped the material off his body, popping buttons and sending them
scattering across the floor. When he came back down, her breasts hit the wall of his chest and her body surged under his.
He wanted to kiss her mouth again, but he was way past anything soft and gentle, so he worshiped her breasts with his tongue and then moved down to her belly. When he got to the waistband of her boxers, he drew them off her long, smooth legs. Wrath felt something in his head pop as her scent reached him in a fresh wave. He was perilously close to orgasm already, his release poised in his shaft, his body shaking with the need to take her. He put his hand between her thighs. She was so wet and hot that he growled. Crazed though he was, he had to taste her before he invaded her. Drawing off his sunglasses, he put them next to the ciga-rillo before pressing kisses over her hips and across the tops of her thighs. Her hands tangled in his hair as she urged him exactly where he was headed. He kissed her softest skin, drawing her core into his mouth, and she came over and over again for him until he couldn’t fight his own need any longer. He pulled back, shrugged out of his pants, and covered her with his body once more. She wrapped her legs around his hips, and he hissed as her heat burned his erection. He used what was left of his strength to pull back and look down into her face. „Don’t stop,“ she breathed. „I want to feel you inside me.“
Wrath dropped his head into the fragrant hollow of her neck. And slowly drew his hips back. The tip of his erection slid into place beautifully, and he  sheathed himself in her body with one powerful stroke. He let out a bellow of ecstasy. Heaven. Now he knew what heaven was like.

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© Lover Eternal (BD # 2) – J. R. Ward

Between Mary and Rhage

He closed the distance between them, dipping low. His lips were soft as suede against hers, lingering,
clinging. His tongue came out and stroked over her mouth. „Open for me, Mary. Let me in.“
He licked at her until she parted for him. As his tongue slid into her, the velvet thrust hit her right between
the thighs, and she eased into his body, heat spearing her as her breasts met his chest. She grabbed onto his shoulders, trying to get closer to all that muscle and warmth. She succeeded for only a moment.

Abruptly, he put a space between their bodies, though he kept in contact with her lips. She wondered whether he still kissed her to hide the fact mat he’d retreated. Or maybe he was just trying to cool her out a little, like she was too aggressive or something? She turned her head to the side.
„What’s wrong?“ he asked. „You’re into this.“
„Yeah, well, not enough for the both of us.“
He stopped her from stepping away by refusing to let go of her neck. „I don’t want to stop, Mary.“
His thumbs caressed the skin of her throat and then pressed into her jaw and angled her head back. „I want to get you hot. Hot enough so you don’t feel anything but me. So you don’t think of anything but what I’m doing to you. I want you liquid.“

He dropped and took her mouth, going in deep, taking her over. He searched all her corners until there was no interior place he hadn’t explored. Then he changed the kiss, retreating and advancing, a rhythmic penetration that got her wetter and even more ready for him. „That’s it, Mary,“ he said against her lips. „Let yourself go. God, I can smell your passion… You are exquisite.“
His hands drifted down, going under the lapels of her coat, on to her collarbones. Good lord, she was lost to him. If he’d told her to lose her clothes, she would have stripped. If he’d told her to get on the ground and spread her legs, she would have hit the grass for him. Anything. Anything he wanted, just as long as he never stopped kissing her.
„I’m going to touch you,“ he said. „Not enough, not nearly enough. But a little…“
His fingers moved over her cashmere turtleneck, going lower and lower and— her body jerked as he found both of her tight nipples. „So ready for me,“ he murmured, plucking them. „I wish I could take them into my mouth. I want to suckle on you, Mary. Would you let me do that?“
His palms flattened and he took the weight of her breasts. „Would you, Mary, if we were alone? If we were in a nice warm bed? If you were naked for me? Would you let me taste these?“
When she nodded, he smiled fiercely. „Yeah, you would. Where else would you like my mouth?“

He kissed her hard when she didn’t answer. „Tell me.“
Her breath left in a wordless rush. She couldn’t think, couldn’t speak. He took her hand and put it around one of his. „Then show me, Mary,“ he said into her ear. „Show me where you want me to go. Lead me. Go on. Do it.“
Unable to stop herself, she took his palm and put it on her neck. In a slow sweep, she brought it back to her breast. He purred his approval and kissed the side of her jaw. „Yeah, there. We know you want me to go there. Where else?“
Mindless, out of control, she drew his hand down to her stomach. Then over to her hip. „Good. That’s good.“ When she hesitated, he whispered, „Don’t stop, Mary. Keep going. Show me where you want me to go.“
Before she lost her nerve, she put his hand between her legs. Her loose skirt gave way, letting him in, and a moan broke out of her at the feel of his palm flat against her core. „Oh, yeah, Mary. That’s right.“
He rubbed her and she gripped his thick biceps, her head falling back. „God, you’re burning alive. Are you wet for me, Mary? I think you are. I think you’re covered with honey …“

Needing to touch him, she shoved her hands into his jacket and onto his waist, feeling the raw, somewhat frightening power of his body. But before she could get far, he pulled her arms out and held her wrists in one hand. He clearly wasn’t stopping, though. He pressed her backward with his chest, until she felt the solid trunk of a tree against her shoulder blades. „Mary, let me make you feel good.“
Through her skirt, his fingers probed and found the pleasure spot. „I want to make you come. Right here, right now.“

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© Shadowfever (Fever # 5) – Karen Marie Moning

copyright: Karen Marie Moning

Between Mac and Jericho

“Maybe there’s nothing wrong with you at all, Mac,” he says. “Maybe you’re exactly what you’re supposed to be, and the only reason you feel so conflicted about it is that you keep trying to bat for the wrong team.” He thrusts deep, rocks his hips forward with a muscle I’d be willing to bet no human man had.
I arch my back. “Are you saying you think I’m evil?”
“Evil isn’t a state of being. It’s a choice.”
“I don’t think—”
My mouth is suddenly busy. By the time I get around to finishing my sentence, I have no idea what I was going to say.
We end up in the shower, an enormous affair of Italian marble and shower heads on all walls. A dozen feet long, six feet wide, it has a bench that’s just the right height. I think we stay in there for days.

He brings in food and I eat in the shower. I wash him, slide my hands over his beautiful body.
“When you die, do your tattoos disappear?” Wet, his hair is darker, glossy, his skin a deep bronze. Water runs over muscle, sprays off his erection. He’s always hard.
“Yes.”
“That’s why they were different.” I frown. “Do you come back exactly how you were when you died the first time?”
“Were you Pri-ya the entire time?”
I gasp and try to duck my head so he can’t see my eyes. My eyes betray me sometimes, no matter how hard I try, especially when my feelings are intense.
He grabs my head and holds it with two fistfuls of my hair, forcing me to look at him.
“I knew it—you weren’t!” His mouth is on mine, he has me against the wall. I can’t breathe and I don’t care. He is exultant. “How long?” he demands.
“What happens when you die?” I counter.
“I come back.”
“Duh, obviously. How? Where? Do you eventually just stand up from your ashes again or something?”
I hear a rattle and suddenly he’s on the floor, head back, muscles rippling, fighting to remain a man. He’s losing the battle. He has talons. Black fangs slide from his mouth, gouging into his skin. I can tell he doesn’t want to turn, but something I asked him has made him frenzied.
I can’t stand watching him struggle. I wonder if anyone has ever tried to help Barrons. I answer, talk to him to keep him grounded in the here and now. “I knew what was happening from the moment you asked me what I wore to the prom.” I drop to my knees beside him, take his head in my arms and cradle him at my breast. His face is half beast, half man. “I began to surface. It was like I was there but trying not to be there. I’m here, Jericho. Stay with me.”

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© Lover Eternal (BD # 2) – J. R. Ward

Between Mary and Rhage

„I need to be with you, Mary. Right now. I have to be inside of you.“
„Then kiss me.“
He pulled her body against him. She was wearing only a T-shirt, and he slid his hands underneath, spanning her lower back. He was already hard for her, ready to take her, but with nothing to fight down, stroking her was an exquisite pleasure. „I need to love you,“ he said, throwing all the sheets and blankets from the bed. He wanted to see every part of her, touch every inch of her, and he didn’t want anything in the way. He pulled the shirt up and over her head and then willed candles to light around the room. She was resplendent in the golden glow, her head turned to the side as she looked up at him with her gray eyes. Her breasts were tight at the tips already, the swells creamy white under her pink nipples. Her stomach was flat, a little too flat, he thought, worrying about her. But her hips were perfect and so were her sleek legs. And the juncture below her navel, that sweetest piece… „My Mary,“ he whispered, thinking about all the places he wanted to go on her.
As he straddled her legs, his sex jutted straight out of his body, heavy, proud, demanding. But before he could lean down to her skin, her hands found his length, and he shuddered, sweat breaking out all over him. Watching her touch him, he let himself go for just a moment, giving free rein to the purity of his desire, the uncontaminated ecstasy. When she sat up, he didn’t know where she was going. „Mary?“
Her lips parted and she took him into her mouth. Rhage gasped and fell back on his arms. „Oh, my… God.“
With all the other females he’d had since the curse, he hadn’t let any of them go down on him. He hadn’t wanted it, hadn’t liked them touching him above the waist, much less below it. But this was Mary.
The suction and the warmth of her mouth, but most of all the knowledge that it was her, stole his strength, putting him at her mercy. Her eyes stared up at him, watching him as he swam in the pleasure she gave him. When he sank back against the mattress, collapsing, she crawled up his thighs, advancing. He cradled her head in his hands, arching into her mouth as she found a rhythm. Right before he went over the edge, he shifted his hips away, not wanting to release yet. „Come here,“ he said, pulling her up his stomach and chest, rolling her onto her back. „I’m going to be in you when I finish.“
Kissing her, he put his hand on the column of her neck and swept down the center of her, stopping over her heart. It was beating fast, and he dropped down, pressing his lips to her sternum and then moving to her breast. He suckled her as he slid his arm around under her shoulder blades and lifted her closer to his mouth.
She made an incredible noise deep in her throat, a breathless gasp that brought his head up just so he could look at her face. Her eyes were closed, her teeth clenched. He kissed a path down to her navel, where he lingered and licked before moving to her hip. Urging her onto her stomach, he parted her legs and cupped her core with his palm. The silky wetness that coated his hand had him shaking as he kissed her hip and her lower back.
Slipping a finger into her, he bared his fangs and ran them up her spinal cord. Mary moaned, her body curving to meet his teeth. He stopped at her shoulder. Nudged her hair out of the way. And growled as he looked at her neck. When she tensed, he whispered, „Don’t be scared, Mary. I won’t hurt you.“
„I’m not afraid.“ She shifted her hips and clenched her wet heat around his hand. Rhage hissed as lust ripped through him. He began to pant, but took comfort. There was no vibration, no god-awful hum. Just her and him. Together. Making love. Though he did hunger for something else from her.
„Mary, forgive me.“
„For what?“
„I want to… drink from you,“ he said into her ear.
She trembled, but he felt a warm rush where he penetrated her and knew the shakes were from pleasure. „You really want to… do that?“ she said.
„God, yes.“ His mouth closed on the side of her throat. He sucked her skin, dying to do so much more. „I would love to be at your vein.“
„I’ve wondered what it would feel like.“ Her voice was husky, thrilling. Good lord, was she going to let him? „Does it hurt?“
„Only a little in the beginning, but then it’s like… sex. You’d feel my pleasure as I took you into me. And I would be very careful. So very gentle.“
„I know you would.“
An erotic surge pounded through him and his fangs unsheathed. He could imagine sinking them into her neck. The sucking. The swallowing. The taste. And then there would be the communion of her doing the same to him. He would feed her well, let her take as much as she wanted— Her doing the same? Rhage pulled back. What the hell was he thinking? She was a human, for chrissakes. She didn’t feed. He put his forehead down on her shoulder. And remembered mat not only was she a human; she was ill. He licked his lips, trying to persuade his fangs to retract. „Rhage? Are you going to… you know.“
„I think it’s safer not to.“
„Honestly, I’m not scared of it.“
„Oh, Mary, I know. You aren’t afraid of anything.“ And her courage was part of the reason he’d bonded with her.
„But I’d rather love your body than take something it can’t afford to give me.“
In a quick series of moves he rose above her, pulled her hips off the mattress, and entered her from behind, sliding deep. Heat roared through him as she arched under his invasion, and he ran one of his arms between her breasts, holding on to her upper body. With his hand, he twisted her chin around so he could kiss her. Her breath was hot and desperate in his mouth as he slowly extracted himself from her core. The surge back in made them both groan. She was so incredibly tight, squeezing him hard as a vise. He got in a couple more controlled thrusts and then his hips took over, moving of their own volition until he couldn’t keep contact with her lips anymore. His body pounded into hers, and he shifted his hands to her waist as he held on.
Her chest dropped down to the bed and her face turned to the side. Her lips were parted, her eyes closed. He let go of her torso and planted his fists in the mattress on either side of her shoulders. She was so small underneath him, dwarfed by the thickness of his forearms, but she took all of him, from tip to base, over and over again until he was lost. From out of nowhere he felt a wonderful stinging in his hand. He looked down and saw that she’d curled around one of his arms and closed her mouth on the base of his thumb, biting. „Harder, Mary,“ he said hoarsely. „Oh, yeah. Bite… hard.“
The little burst of pain as her teeth sank into him shot his pleasure through the roof, taking him to the very verge of coming. Except he didn’t want it to end. He pulled out and quickly turned her over. As she landed on her back, her legs flopped to the sides as if she didn’t have the strength to hold them up. The sight of her open to him, glistening for him, swollen from him, nearly had him releas-ing all over her thighs. He dropped his head and kissed where he had been, tasting a little of himself, a little of that marking scent he was leaving all over her body. She cried out wildly as she climaxed. And before her pulses faded, he shot up over her and plunged back inside. She called his name, nails scoring his back.
He let himself go over the edge while looking into her wide, dazed eyes. With nothing to hold back, he came over and over again, pumping his flow into her. The orgasm kept going and he rode the waves that overtook him. The ecstasy seemed to have no end, and there was no stopping it.

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© Dark Lover (BD # 1) – J. R. Ward

Between Beth and Wrath (Can’t get enough :p )

„Are you running away?“ she whispered. It was mostly a question. Only a little bit of a taunt. „Be careful, Beth.“
„Why?“
„I’m about to crack over here.“
She got off the bed and came to him. Her hand landed squarely on his chest, right above his heart. And then her other one wrapped around his waist. He hissed as she stepped into his body. But at least the sexual need cut through his other hunger. „Are you going to tell me no?“ she asked.
„I don’t want to take advantage of you,“ he said through gritted teeth. „You’ve been through enough tonight.“
She gripped his shoulders. „I’m angry. Scared. Confused. I want you to make love to me until I don’t feel, until I’m numb. If anything, I’d be using you.“
She looked down. „God that sounds awful.“
The hell it did. He was more than willing to be used like that by her. He tilted her chin up with his forefinger. Even though her rich scent told him exactly what her body needed from him, he wished he could see her face clearly. „Don’t leave,“ she whispered.
Her hand left his waist. And found his erection. His body jerked wildly, breath slamming into his lungs. His gasp shattered the silence in the room.
„You want me,“ she said. „And I want you to take me.“
She rubbed her palm over his length, the friction passing with aching clarity through the second skin of his leathers. Just sex. He could do it. He could hold back the other need. He could. But was he willing to bet her life on his control? „Don’t say no, Wrath.“
And then she lifted up onto her tiptoes and put her lips to his. Game over, he thought, crushing her to him. He thrust his tongue into her mouth as he grabbed her hips and ground himself into her hand. Her moan of satisfaction cranked him even higher, and as her nails bit into his back, he loved the little bursts of pain he felt because they meant she was as hungry as he was. He had her on the bed and under him in a flash of movement, and he pushed up her skirt and tore off her panties with vicious impatience. He didn’t treat her blouse or bra any better. There would be time to savor later. Now was all about raw sex. While he worked her breasts with his mouth, her hands were rough as she pulled his shirt from his chest. He left her only long enough to undo his pants and spring his erection. Then he linked his forearm behind one of her knees, stretched her leg up, and plunged himself into her body.
He heard her gasp at his powerful entry, and her slick heat grabbed onto him, pulsating as she came. He froze in place, absorbing the sensation of her release, feeling her core stroke him. An overwhelming, possessive instinct flashed through him.

„Are you all right?“
The concern for him in her voice was what did it.  Before he could think any further, before he could stop, he propped himself up on his arms and pounded into her, taking her hard, drilling her. The bed’s headboard banged against the wall to the beat of his thrusts, and she grabbed onto his straining wrists, trying to hold herself in place. A low sound shot through the room, growing louder and louder, until he realized the growl was coming from him. As a fevered heat broke out all over his skin, his nose registered that dark fragrance of possession. He was powerless to stop himself.
His lips peeled off his teeth as his muscles churned and his hips thrashed against her. Drenched in sweat, head spinning, mindless, breathless, he took everything she was offering him. Took it and demanded more, becoming an animal as she became one, too, until they were nothing but wildness.
He came violently, filling her up, pumping into her, his orgasm going on and on and on, until he realized she was climaxing right along with him, the two of them holding on to each other for dear life against shattering waves of passion. It was the most perfect union he’d ever known.

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© Shadowfever (Fever # 5) – Karen Marie Moning

Between Mac and Jericho

“You really think evil is a choice?” I ask.
“Everything is. Each moment. Each day.”
“I didn’t sleep with Darroc. But I would have.”
“Irrelevant.” He moves inside me. “I’m here now.”
“I was going to seduce the shortcut out of him so I could get the Book. Then I was going to unmake this world and replace it with another, so I could have you back.”
He freezes. I can’t see his face. He’s behind me. It’s part of why I can say it. I don’t think I could say it to his face and see myself reflected in his eyes. I wasn’t going to unmake the world for my sister. I’d loved her all my life. I’d known him for only a few short months.
“Might have been a bit strenuous for your first attempt at creation,” he says finally. He’s trying not to laugh. I tell him I would have doomed mankind for him, and he tries not to laugh.
“It wouldn’t have been my first attempt. I’m a pro. You were wrong. I am the Unseelie King,” I tell him.
He begins moving again. After a while, he pulls me around and kisses me. “You’re Mac,” he says. “And I’m Jericho. And nothing else matters. Never will. You exist in a place that is beyond all rules for me. Do you understand that?”
I do. – Jericho Barrons just told me he loves me.

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© Shadowfever (Fever # 5) – Karen Marie Moning

Between Mac and Jericho

Jericho: “Nobody’s perfect for battling evil. It’s seductive. When we find it, it’s going to come at you with everything it’s got.”
I was braced for it. I knew it would. I took a deep, slow breath, filling my lungs, squaring my shoulders. “Jericho, I feel like my whole life has been pushing me toward this moment.”
“That’s it. Fate’s a fickle whore. We’re not going. Take your clothes off and get back in my bed.”
I laughed. “Come on, Barrons. When have you ever run from a fight?”
“Never. And others paid for it. I won’t have the same happen to you.”
“I don’t believe this,” I said with mock horror. “Jericho Barrons is vacillating. Will wonders never cease?”
The rattle moved in his chest. “I’m not vacillating. I’m…ah, fuck.”
Barrons doesn’t lie to himself. He was vacillating and he knew it.
“The moment I laid eyes on you, I knew you were trouble.”
“Ditto.”
“I wanted to drag you between the shelves, fuck you senseless, and send you home.”
“If you’d done that, I never would have left.”
“You’re still here anyway.”
“You don’t have to sound so sour about it.”
“You’re upsetting my entire existence.”
“Fine, I’ll leave.”
“Try and I’ll chain you up.” He glowered at me.
“That’s vacillating.” He sighed. After a moment, he held out his hand. I slipped mine into his.

.

Einige Szenen in Deutsch

.

© Magische Begegnung  (Land der Schatten#1) – Ilona Andrews

Zwischen Rose und Declan

„Rose.“
Rose zuckte weg, aber er versperrte ihr den Fluchtweg mit dem Arm. „Du bist der Stärkere, ich hab’s geschnallt“, knirschte sie. Sie sollte ihn wegstoßen, aber da hätte sie ebenso gut versuchen können, einen Güterzug aufzuhalten. Er bewegte sich keinen Milimeter.
„Rose“, sagter er sanft. „Sieh mich an.“
Sie funkelte ihn an. Ihre Blicke trafen sich, und sie sah etwas dermaßen Fesselndes und Besitzergreifendes in seinen grasgrünen Augen, dass ihr die Worte im Hals stecken blieben. Er betrachtete sie wie einen Goldschatz. Als gäbe es sonst nichts auf der Welt. Er sah sie an, als würde er sie lieben.
Sie spürte ihre Wangen warm werden und wusste, dass sie errötete. Er ließ den Blick über sie schweifen, musterte ihren Hals, ihre Augen, ihre Kehle, und nahm sich alle Zeit der Wel dafür. Sie stand in seinen Armen gefangen, die Hitze seines Körpers drang durch den dünnen Stoff ihres T-Shirts. Die roch ihn, roch den vertrauten Sandelholzduft, das Nelkenöl, mit dem er sein Schwert gereinigt hatte, und den Schweiß. Seine Brust bedrängte sie mit harten, geschmeidigen Muskeln, und ihre Nippel wurden hart. Es gab kein Entkommen.
„Ich gehe auf den Anleger, nicht du“, sagte sie.
„Nein.“
„Du verstehst nicht.“
„Ich verstehe vollkommen.“
Sein mächtiger Leib hielt sie. Seine Hüften ließen ihr keinen Spielraum. Dann hob er die Hand und führte in einer ausgedehnten Liebkosung die Finger ihren Hals hinauf, zum Kinn und zu ihren Lippen. Sie erschauderte. Sein Daumen strich hart über ihre Unterlippe.
„Bloß weil du mich küsst, stimme ich dir noch lange nicht zu“, flüsterte sie.
„Ich will gar nicht, dass du mir zustimmst.“ Seine Stimme klang rau und tief. „Ich kann bloß nicht anders.“
Seine Armmuskeln zogen sich zusammen, und sie erkannte, dass er um seine Selbstbeherrschung kämpfte. Er schluckte, seine Augen blickten dunkel.
.
.
Sie küsste ihn, schmiegte sich an seine Riesengestalt, als biegsames Gegenstück seiner Festigkeit. Da verlor er die Kontrolle. Er stürzte sich auf sie, stieß sie gegen die Hauswand, erwiderte mit Ungestüm und Leidenschaft ihren Kuss und nahm sie in sich auf. Das Echo seines Kusses hallte durch ihren Körper und entlockter ihr ein tiefes Stöhnen. Sie glitt gegen ihn, arbeitete sich mit den Händen seinen harten Rückenmuskeln hinauf.
Er zog sie an sich und vergrub sein Gesicht in ihrer Halsbeuge. Mit Zähnen und Zunge bespielte er ihre Haut, fuhr rau über die empfindliche Stelle an ihrem Puls und badete ihren Körper in Hitze. Die Wärme breitete sich in ihr aus, als Declan sie wieder und wieder küsste. Ihr Körper zug sich zusammen, er rieb sich an ihr, und sie glitt an ihm auf und ab, widerstand sanft den Andrang seiner Erektion.
Er schob seine Hand unter ihr Shirt, zog ihren BH runter, befreite so ihre schmerzenden Brüste und strich über ihre Nippel. Ein intensiver, unerwarteter Schauer der Lust durchlief sie…
Wieder küsste er sie, nahm ihr den Atem und zupfte mit den Zähnen an ihren Lippen. Sie zerrte an seinem T-Shirt, sie wllte ihn nackt sehen, wollte seine Haut an ihrer Haut spüren. Da zog er sich von ihr zurück und lupfte sie vom Boden. „Bett.“
Sie wickelte sich um ihn, küsste seinen Hals un die Kinnbacken. „Gute Idee.“
Sie rasten durchs Haus ins Schlafzimmer. Dort ließ er sie aufs Bett fallen, packte den Stoff ihres T-Shirts, riss daran und zerfetze die alte, abgetragene Baumwolle mit einem Ruck. „Entschuldige.“
„Ich hab noch so eins.“ Sie zog ihm das Shirt über den Kopf und fuhr mit den Händen über seinen Körper, von der Brust über die festen Kämme seiner Bauchmuskeln, dann half sie ihm aus seiner Jeans und rieb mit der Hand über den harten Schaft seiner Erektion. Er gab einen wilden, animalischen Kehllaut von sich und riss ihr die letzten Kleidungsstücke vom Körper. Einen Moment lang sah sie ihn über dem Bett aufragen, groß, golden, ganz aus klar definierten Muskeln gestrickt.
Sie war schrecklich heiß, schrecklich feucht und schrecklich ungeduldig.
Er stürzte sich auf sie, sie kam ihm halbwegs entgegen, küsste, knetete und schürte das Feuer in ihnen beiden. Seine Zunge spielte auf ihrer Haut. Er umfasste ihre linke Brust, rieb mit den Fingern über die Brustwarze, bis es wehtat. Sie stöhnte.
Er schob die Hüften zwischen ihre Beine, senkte den Kopf, nahm die Brustwarze in seinen heißen Mund und schickte eine Welle purer Lust durch ihren Leib. Sie grub die Finger in seine harten Rückenmuskeln und bog sich ihm bereitwillig entgegen. „Jetzt“, hauchte sie. „Jetzt, Declan, warte nicht länger.“
Er erhörte sie. Seine Lippen fanden ihre, dann drang er in sie ein, und sie schnappte nach Luft. Ihr Körper vibrierte vor Lust und sehnte sich, verlangte nach mehr. Sie rieb sich an ihm.
Er stieß wieder und wieder zu, tief, hart, fand einen schnellen, feurigen Rhythmus, während sein Gewicht zu einer gleichmäßigen, süßen Last auf ihr wurde. Sie fühlte sich erfüllt, wunderbar erfüllt von ihm, und sie wollte noch mehr.
Sie küsste seine Kinnbacken, seine Kehle, und er stieß noch härter zu. Sie krallte sich in seinen Rücken, all ihre Muskeln waren gespannt, und das quallvolle Verlangen in ihr wuchs zu einer Kaskade des Entzückens an. Sie spürte, wie sie höher und höher stieg, angetrieben von seinen Stößen und selbstvergessen im erhitztzen Gleiten ihrer Leiber, bis etwas in ihr riss. Die Lust schlug über ihr zusammen und erstickte sämtliche Gedanken. Sie schrie seinen Namen, und ihr Körper fiel in den Schrei ein, griff nach ihm, folgte seinem Rhythmus. Da verkrampfte er sich und kam mit einem heiseren Knurren. 

.

..

© Leopardenblut
(Psy-Changeling #1) – Nalini Singh

Psy Changeling

Zwischen Sascha und Lucas

„Lucas.ʺ
Ein tiefes Schnurren vibrierte in ihrem Brustkorb und schickte kleine Wellen durch ihren erregten Körper. Jede Faser in ihr zitterte so sehr vor Verlangen, dass es fast schmerzte.
„Ich möchte das T‐Shirt ausziehen.ʺ Es fühlte sich zu eng, zu heiß an. Selbst der Slip war ihr noch zu viel. Sie wollte jeden Zentimeter seiner schweißnassen Haut spüren, jede sinnliche, wilde Berührung. Er rollte sich zur Seite. Seine schmalen Augen glänzten in sanftem Grün. Nicht einen Augenblick ließ er sie aus den Augen und warf sich wieder auf sie, sobald sie nackt war. Erneut war sie ihm ausgeliefert. Diesmal lag sie auf dem Bauch und fühlte ihn hart zwischen ihren Pobacken. „Aber du …ʺ
Langsam und genüsslich fuhr er mit den Fingernägeln seitlich an ihrem Körper hoch und jagte ihr damit einen Schauer nach dem anderen über die Haut. „Ich bin kein Mensch, Sascha. Eine Runde reicht nicht aus, damit ich schlappmache.ʺ
Er knabberte an ihrem Ohr. „Oh.ʺ
„Jetzt bin ich dran.ʺ Die kräftigen Zähne glitten über ihre Schulter und seine Hand schob sich in die feuchten Locken zwischen ihren Beinen. Der sanfte Laut, den sie von sich gab, war so voller Verlangen, dass es sie selbst überraschte. Lucas schien es zu gefallen. Er drang noch tiefer ein und die Berührung an dieser empfindlichen Stelle machte sie fast verrückt. „Lucas“, flüsterte sie.
„Heb deinen Hinternʺ, sagte er an ihrem Ohr und stieg von ihr herunter.
Obwohl dieser Vorschlag ihr die Röte ins Gesicht trieb, beugte sie die Knie und richtete sich auf, denn sie wollte auf keinen Fall etwas von dem verpassen, was er ihr zeigen wollte. Seine Hand rutschte auf ihren Bauch, mit der anderen strich er über ihre Pobacken. Noch nie hatte sie sich so bloß, so verletzlich gefühlt. Dann glitt seine Hand zwischen ihre Schenkel und drückte sie langsam weiter auf. Hinter sich hörte sie ein kehliges Knurren. Jeder Muskel in ihr war vor Erwartung gespannt.
„Dein Duft ist wie eine Droge für mich.ʺ
Seine Stimme war so rau, dass sie ihn kaum verstehen konnte. Sanft murmelnd legte er ihr die Hand wieder auf die Hüfte und begann sie zu lecken. Schon bei der ersten Berührung hätte sie fast aufgeschrien. Sie spürte, wie sie zitterte, dabei hatte er gerade erst angefangen.
Er leckte wie eine Katze, die langsam und vorsichtig jeden Tropfen in einer Sahneschüssel auskostete. Saschas Körper verwandelte sich in flüssiges Feuer. Sie bekam kaum noch Luft und ihr Gesicht brannte, diesmal aber nicht vor Scham, sondern vor Lust. Seine Hand glitt wieder zwischen ihre Schenkel. Sie spreizte sie weiter, damit seine Zunge noch tiefer eindringen konnte, er sie ganz auskosten konnte, bis sie Sterne sah. Sie … ließ es einfach zu. Er nutzte die Gelegenheit aus und zeigte ihr, was es bedeutete, von einem Alphapanther geliebt zu werden, der sie als sein Eigentum betrachtete.
In seinem Kuss lag nichts Zögerndes. Mit jeder Berührung nahm er sie in Besitz. Die Finger auf ihren Schenkeln glühten und hielten sie fest, so wie er sie haben wollte, während sein Mund mit einer rohen Zärtlichkeit über sie herfiel, die sie völlig wehrlos machte.
Sie war schon fast außer sich vor Verlangen, als er sie mit den Zähnen in den Hintern zwickte. „Tut mir leid. Kätzchen. Ich bin zu schnell, aber ich will jetzt in dich rein.ʺ
Schnell? Er hielt das für schnell? Was war für ihn dann langsam? Ich brauche dich. Sie sprach mit ihm auf der intimsten
Ebene und wunderte sich nicht einmal darüber, dass es so leicht war. Sie spürte, wie er sich hinter ihr aufrichtete und wartete
voller Spannung. Als er in sie eindrang, schrie sie leise auf. Es fühlte sich an, als dringe er nicht nur in ihren Körper, sondern auch in ihren Geist ein. Und sie wollte ihn tiefer spüren.
Er stieß weiter und erfüllte ihr unausgesprochenes Verlangen. Ein scharfer, unerwarteter Schmerz schlich sich in ihre Lust. „W… was? Lucas?ʺ
„Schsch. Kommt nicht wieder vor.ʺ Seine Lippen glitten ihre Wirbelsäule entlang und lenkten sie ab mit ihren Küssen. „Du fühlst dich so gut an, Schätzchen, so heiß und eng. Einmal wird nicht genug sein.ʺ
Bei diesen geflüsterten Zärtlichkeiten liefen ihr Schauer über die Haut. Die Hand auf ihrem Bauch hob sie hoch und sie presste den Rücken an seine Brust, während er tief in ihr war. Sie spürte seinen Herzschlag in ihrem Inneren, es gab keinen Kuss, der köstlicher, sinnlicher gewesen wäre. Sie folgte Instinkten, die so alt waren, dass sie keinen Namen brauchten, und bewegte ihre Hüften in langsamen Kreisen. Sein Arm griff fester zu, lag wie ein Ring aus Muskeln um ihren Bauch. Die Hitze seiner Brust verbrannte sie fast ‐ als wäre seine
Körpertemperatur sehr viel höher als ihre. Seine Finger fassten nach ihrer Brust und zogen zärtlich an der Brustwarze. Mit einem  Aufschrei bewegte sie sich erneut.
Seine Hand rutschte tiefer und legte sich auf ihre Hüfte. „Hör auf damit.ʺ
Sie bewegte sich wieder. Jetzt spürte sie, wie der Panther in Lucas die Führung übernahm. Er zog sich fast völlig zurück und stieß dann tief in sie hinein. Ihr Körper fing an, unkontrolliert zu zittern. Sie konnte nicht ruhig bleiben und presste sich gegen Lucas.
Seine Zähne fassten sie im Nacken und hielten sie fest, während er sie beide an den Rand höchster Erregung trieb. Der Griff schmerzte nicht, aber sie fühlte sich völlig in Besitz genommen. Sie spürte deutlich, dass ihr Liebhaber weder ein Mensch noch ein Medialer war,
dass sie ihn nicht kontrollieren konnte. Und genau dafür liebte sie ihn.
Seine Hand glitt wieder in die Locken zwischen ihren Beinen und fand den pulsierenden Ort, der liebkost werden wollte. Er wusste, was sie brauchte. Sie schrie aus tiefster Seele, griff in ihrer Leidenschaft nach hinten und fuhr mit den Fingernägeln über seine Oberarmmuskeln.
Mit einem Brüllen ließ er ihren Hals los und bewegte sich so schnell und hart in ihr, dass sie ihm nicht mehr folgen konnte. Stattdessen schmolz sie, nahm seinen Hunger an, sein Verlangen, seine Forderung, auch als ihr Körper in tausend Stücke zersprang und helle, bunte Funken vor ihren Augen explodierten.
In diesem Moment zog Lucas sich zu ihrem Erschrecken zurück. Bevor sie sich darüber beschweren konnte, hatte er sie umgedreht und auf sich gesetzt, sodass ihre Beine um seine Hüften lagen. Kurz darauf war er wieder so tief in ihr, dass sie nicht mehr klar denken konnte.
„Mach die Augen aufʺ, bat er an ihrem Mund.
Sie gehorchte ohne nachzudenken und sah in die glühenden grünen Augen des Panthers. „Warum?ʺ
„Feuerwerkʺ, flüsterte er und küsste sie so hungrig, als wollte er sie auffressen. Diesmal waren seine Bewegungen tief, schnell und ungestüm. Sascha ließ sich vom Sturm treiben, weiter und weiter in diesem wilden Spiel. Sie tanzten den intimsten, gefährlichsten und schönsten Tanz ihres Lebens. Als ein Schauer durch den muskulösen Körper in ihren Armen lief und Lucas rau aufschrie, spürte sie,
wie ihre ganze Weiblichkeit vor Vergnügen aufstöhnte.
.

.
©
Lover at Last (BD # 11) – J. R. Ward

Between Qhuinn and Blay

A figure slipped into his room silently, and shut the door. By the scent, he knew who it was. Qhuinn’s heart began to thunder as he shot upright off the pillows. “Blay…?” There was the softest of rustling, a robe being dropped from the shoulders of a tall male. And then, moments later, the mattress depressed as a great, vital weight got up upon it.
Qhuinn reached through the darkness with unerring accuracy, his hands finding the sides of Blay’s neck sure as if they had been led by sight. No talking. He was afraid that words would cheat him of this miracle. Lifting his mouth, he pulled Blay down to his own, and when those velvet lips were in range, he kissed them with a desperation that was returned. All at once, the pent-up past was released in a fury, and as he tasted blood, he didn’t know whose fangs had scored what. Who the fuck cared. On a hard yank, he laid Blay down and then he rolled over on top of the other male, spreading those thighs and pushing himself between them until his hard cock came up against Blay’s…. They both groaned. Dizzy from all the naked skin, Qhuinn began pumping his hips up and back, the friction of their sexes and their hot flesh magnifying the wet heat of their mouths. Frenzy, everywhere, hurry, hurry, hurry—holy fucking shit, there was too much hunger to make any sense of where his hands were, or what he was rubbing against, or— for fuck’s sake, there was too much skin to touch, too much hair to pull, too much… Qhuinn came hard, his balls going tight, his erection kicking between them, his come going everywhere. Didn’t slow him down in the slightest. With a quick jerk, he broke away from the mouth he could have spent the next hundred years working, and shoved himself down Blay’s chest. The muscles he came across were nothing like the human guys’ he’d fucked—this was a vampire, a fighter, a soldier who had trained heavily and worked his flesh into a condition that was not just useful, but downright deadly. And holy hell was that a turn-on—but more than that, though, this was Blay; it was finally, after all these years…
Blay. Qhuinn dragged his fangs down abdominals that were rock tight, and the scent of himself on Blay’s skin was a marking that he knew he’d done on purpose. That dark spice was going other places, too. He groaned when his hands found Blay’s cock, and as he circled the hard column, the guy arched up sharply, a curse cutting through the room, much in the same way the light had just moments before. Qhuinn licked his lips, stood Blay’s sex up, and let the head of that thick, blunt cock part his mouth. Sucking down deep, he took it to its base, opening his throat wide, swallowing everything. In response, Blay’s hips shot up, and rough hands bit into his hair, forcing his head even farther down until he couldn’t get any breath to his lungs—and who the fuck needed oxygen, anyway? Digging his hands under Blay’s ass, he tilted that pelvis and started going up and down, his neck straining under the punishing rhythm, his shoulders bunching and releasing as he followed through on exactly what he’d been offering before Blay had left. He wasn’t stopping with this, though. Nope. This was just the beginning.

…..

As Blay jacked back against the pillows on Qhuinn’s bed, his head nearly snapped off his spine. Everything was out of control, but he wouldn’t have slowed things down in the slightest: With his hips pumping up and down, his cock was pushing in and sucking out of Qhuinn’s mouth— Thank God the lights were off. The sensations alone were too much to handle—adding a visual? He wouldn’t be able to— The orgasm rocketed out of him, his breath catching, his body going tight all over, his sex kicking hard. And as he came in great spasms, he was milked by that mouth—and man, that suction kept the release barreling through him, great waves of tingling pleasure sweeping from his brain to his balls, his body hitting a different plane of existence altogether— Without warning, he was flipped over with a rough hand, his body handled like it didn’t weigh a damned thing. Then an arm shot under his pelvis and popped him up onto his knees. There was a brief lull, during which all he heard was heavy breathing behind him, the panting getting faster, and harder— He heard Qhuinn orgasm and knew exactly what that was for.
Even though his whole body went weak with anticipation, he knew he had to get good and braced as a heavy hand landed on his shoulder and— The penetration was a branding iron, brutal and hot, going right to the core of him. And he cursed on an explosive exhale—not because it hurt, although it did in the best possible sense. Not even because this was something he had wanted forever, although he had. No, it was because he had the strangest sense he was being marked—and for some reason, that made him— A hiss sounded at his ear, and then a pair of fangs sank into his shoulder, Qhuinn’s grip shifting to his hips, his torso locked in so many places now. And then the relentless hammering started, Blay’s molars clapping together, his arms having to hold both their bodies up, his legs and torso straining under the onslaught. He had a feeling the headboard was slamming against the wall—and for a split second, he remembered that chandelier in the library going back and forth as Layla had been subjected to this. Blay cursed the image. He couldn’t allow himself to go there; he just couldn’t. God knew there was plenty of time to dwell on that stuff later. Right now? This was too damn good to waste…. As the pounding continued, his palms slid on the fine cotton sheets, and he had to reposition them, pushing down into the soft mattress to try to keep himself in place. God, the sounds that Qhuinn was making, the grunting that reverberated from between the fangs buried in his shoulder, the thumping—yeah, that was the headboard. Definitely. With pressure building up again in his balls, he was tempted to palm himself—but no hope of that. He needed both arms on the job— Like Qhuinn read his mind, the male reached around and gripped him
No pumping needed. Blay came so hard his vision went twinkle-twinkle-little-star, and at that very instant, Qhuinn started orgasming, too, those hips spearing inside and freezing for a split second before withdrawing an inch and going deep for another kicking explosion. And yeah, wow, the combination of them both doing their thing was so erotic, it just primed everything all over again: There was no break for recovery, no pause at all. Qhuinn just resumed driving—if anything, it was like the release had made his need stronger. As the sex raged on—and in spite of all the strength he had in his upper body—Blay ended up getting fucked clean off the bed, one hand locking on the side table to keep him from hitting the wall— Crash. “Shit,” he said roughly. “The lamp—” Qhuinn wasn’t interested in home furnishings, apparently. The male just yanked Blay’s head around and started kissing him, that pierced tongue penetrating his mouth, licking and sucking…like he couldn’t get enough. Dizzy. He got downright dizzy from it all. In every fantasy he’d ever had, he’d always pictured Qhuinn as a ferocious lover, but this was…on another level. So it was from a distance that he heard himself say in a guttural voice, “Bite me…again….” A great growl from above threaded into his ears, and then another hiss ripped through the darkness as Qhuinn shifted positions, his massive weight torquing so that those sharp fangs could sink in deep on the side of the throat. Blay cursed and wiped clean the rest of whatever was on the table, his chest taking the place of the objects, his sweat-streaked skin squeaking on the varnish as he lay half on his side. Throwing a hand out, he caught the flat plane of the floor and shoved back, keeping them both stable as Qhuinn fed and fucked him so good….

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