She could feel his penis pressing against her, half-erect under the starched black tuxedo pants. God had never answered any of her prayers. ‘And what the devil do you mean by demanding that I wait on you here? D’you think I haven’t enough to do handling that caper-witted female’s affairs, without dancing attendance on you?’ ‘Don’t be cross,’ begged Lucilla, much to Melusine’s disgust.
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