“Jacob’s sheer voice and accent gets me so bothered. I can imagine him meeting you at a pub or bar one night, your cheeks are heavily flushed with red from the drink. Jacob is there, his large hands brushing against your hips, searching for something almost. ‘The dame’s havin’ it wide.’ He comments, confused you can only stare. ‘They’re right for some pounding, yeah?’ He purrs lowly. ‘Let’s see to that, my lady’.”

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