‘There’s no controlling you, is there?’ He held up his hands. She felt his crotch through his jeans. She had traversed perhaps three bookshelves, passed across the door that must lead to the hall, turned the corner, and was just about to reach the fireplace when she abruptly became aware that something under her fingers had felt wrong. Her voice recalled him. Her mouth was an effective tourniquet. And, if you'll give me such a smack of your sweet lips, Miss, as you've just given Thames, I'll take myself off in less than no time.
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