They were both conscious, however, that something had intervened between them. The bed was hard beyond any experience of hers, the bed-clothes coarse and insufficient, the cell at once cold and stuffy. She cried out in pain, then in pleasure as he thrust himself into her. Jack, whose clothes were covered with dust, and whose face was deathly pale from his recent exertion, looked more like a phantom than a living person. ” “What did you hear?” Lucy felt herself unwillingly compelled to hang on Michelle’s every word. "Your sympathy is being wasted.
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