Nevertheless, Sir John had the look of a man who was enjoying himself. Vorsack would staunchly disapprove of his attire, said nothing anyway. "Where is my mother?" he added, regarding the knight with a searching glance. There is no poison that would affect her. ‘Your wife?’ ‘My wife,’ he repeated, rising also, his smile mocking her. It was a castoff of Shari’s from her brief obsession with sewing. All at once he saw a way out of the threatening doldrums. She slipped her hand between them and grasped his erection. Unobserved, she knelt and kissed the threshold: for she knew what kisses were now.
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