“John?” He turned around in the recliner. Art was everywhere, underfoot in the form of mosaics, overhead in the form of architecture. ‘I do not know your Gérard. Next instant, Gerald felt his wrist seized in an iron grip. She wrapped her legs about his hips as he raised himself upon straight arms, piercing her with his gaze as he thrust into her. His fingers slipped under the collar of her linen shift and he tore it open with a swipe. “I expect it is pretty well in shreds by now.
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