The Iron Bar. He filled her glass with champagne. ‘Silence,’ he warned again, with a prod of the dagger at her heart. His build was medium, he would never 5 tower over his peers, yet his shoulders were broadening, betrayed by an undeveloped set of pectoral muscles underneath his button-down shirt that she could tell frustrated him. You don’t wear a dinner coat with a flower in your button-hole, or last night’s shirt, or very glossy boots, nor do you haunt the drawing-room in the evening, or play at being musical. I—I am a lovesick idiot, and not accountable for my actions. ‘How is your plan now, mon brave?’ Melusine taunted.
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This video was uploaded to ccc999.shop on 05-05-2024 16:33:52
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