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Denise was Robbie's wife and a former Marine who'd resigned her commission five years ago in order to commence pumping out babies to carry on the Donaldson line. There were three little Donaldson's at home being cared for by the nanny.There were six of us seated in the back of the stretch limousine: my father-in-law, Brigadier General Gable M.A friend who was into what I later learned was termed the lifestyle' put me on to this run down club in So Ho.The place was a dilapidated dump but once a month, a crowd gathered who could usually satisfy my needs. Andrews cross when Trace and two of his army buddies arrived. I was leaving for training at Fort Campbell next week.Donaldson and his wife, Lois, my aforementioned brother-in-law and his wife and Mary Ellen, my dead husband's younger sister now in her fourth year at West Point.They were watching me being abused as a prelude to entering Morrosco's Funeral Home in Melrose, Massachusetts for their son's wake. Donaldson had been traveling through the streets of Kabul when a mine had exploded under his Humvee.
Two Donaldsons gave their all during the War to End All Wars.His other hand grabbed me by the hair and I knew I was in for a good old-fashioned Donaldson family face fucking. Oh Robbie, I'm getting so fucking hot watching you.Look, there's snot dribbling out her nose, exclaimed my sister-in-law, Denise.I was about to give up and ask to be released when Trace saw me.He stepped up to the cross, leaned against me while taking my nipples in his powerful fingers and gave them the kind of twist that makes an ordinary woman scream and beg for mercy.
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Trace and his driver were killed instantly according to the letter I got from his commander. The Humvee had burned and several pieces of ordinance had exploded inside the cab.