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Summary
Vaggie led Charlie’s hands to the front of her shirt, popping the first button open with ease, the rest following suit until Vaggie’s shirt was pulled over her head and Charlie’s hands were skimming down her abdomen.
Lately, they hadn’t had a lot of time for moments like this, where hands could roam and lips could find soft skin. Vaggie understood, of course, but it had still sucked.
What didn’t suck, though, was the right now, with her lips on Charlie’s and Charlie’s hands on her hips as Vaggie pressed her down into the mattress.