“Please don’t,” she said. Her eyes were lit with smouldering passion. His fingers slipped under the collar of her linen shift and he tore it open with a swipe. You did not complain then that I personated you—no, nor when Sir John came to me in Paris, and for your sake I lied. I'll show you the Shamien; and we can talk all we want. Then he entered her passionately, riding her with exquisite precision.
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