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which Geoffrey welcomed his father's suggestion that he return to action, that she had intended to give him a cold farewell. He might love her better than other women, but it was sure he did not love her better than killing other men. Nonetheless, it was impossible after their mutual laughter to draw on a cloak of wounded pride. Besides, she was by no means immune to her husband's flattery or to what he was doing, and the idea of coupling on the carpet before the fire lent an odd spice also. |
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"Geoffrey," she sighed, her hands wandering down his body, "do you wish to leave me?" |
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"Are you mad?" he sighed, but he had better uses for his mouth than answering silly questions, and soon Joanna was too far gone to ask any others. |
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By hooking the toes of his free leg into them, Geoffrey had rid himself of the remaining leg of his chausses and shoe without breaking Joanna's concentration. It was easier to untie her belt and open her robe, but when he turned her on her back he could feel her shiver. The floor struck cold even through the carpet. Geoffrey pulled Joanna back against his naked warmth and lay flat himself, lifting her atop him so that her open robe flowed over both like a coverlet. |
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"Come," he whispered, "mount astride me as you did when I was still too sore to play the man. Pleasure me thus." |
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Had Joanna been able to think, the reminder of the danger Geoffrey so eagerly sought might have turned her to ice. It did not work that way. Pain wrung her but the pang seemed to intensify the pleasure in her' loins as when Geoffrey sucked her breasts hard enough to bruise them the pain heightened her passion. Tears came to her eyes, and the feeling of them running down her face also added a weird excitement to the love play. |
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For Geoffrey too there was a stimulating oddity in this mating. The notion that his wife wept while her body moved sinuously upon his, the chill of the floor at his back and the warmth of Joanna's breasts against his chest, even the knowledge that he dare not cry out or groan with pleasure |
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