She was to have fifteen pounds, and no more. “All the time he is shouting and muttering. For that worthless father of yours—’ Melusine let go the hand only so that she might throw her own hands in the air. He devoured her with his eyes too, his shyness not able to disguise his furtive glances at the curvy outline of her breast against the imitation silk, his memory still exquisitely tortured by her movements in the miniskirt.
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