She was flushed, and her eyes were bright and angry; her breath came sobbing, and her hair was all abroad in wandering strands of black. He drove it into her missionary style, and though he was worried about hurting her, he could not stop himself from thrusting into her deeply. He smiled. If Jack should die, all though her fault, she could never forgive herself. No surprise, for Melusine was aware no Frenchman in his situation would dream of walking abroad unarmed. There was the cottage she had inhabited for so many years,—in those fields she had rambled,—at that church she had prayed.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDMuMTM4LjE3OC4xNzEgLSAwMS0wNy0yMDI0IDA3OjU4OjM4IC0gMTc1Nzc3MjI3OA==
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