The man’s passion became almost unbearable at the thought of losing her. She walked through the walls. ” “Eh?” “I’ve forgotten something. As the Wastrel played, Spurlock knew that the man saw the inevitable end—death by drink; saw the glory of the things he had thrown away, the past, once so full of promise. She looked at him as he thrust deeply, his face contorted with pleasure as he watched her riding him. Put him in the stocks, and there let him sleep off his drunken fit. He squinted and a disgusted look came over him. She was definitely following him.
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