Her hands wove through his black hair, luxuriating in its thickness. "You mistake,—you are mine. “Sir John!” Annabel gasped. She did not open the Bible but laid it on the edge of the bed, knelt and rested her forehead upon the worn leather cover. The red glare fell upon the slimy brick-work, and tinged the inky waters below.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 20-09-2024 12:10:46
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