He had never
known before, the power of a woman’s loving caress. Llyrica’s caress.
An
exorcism of a thousand hurts, her touch burned him, threatened to reduce him to
a crying child. The healing effects of her affections, unsought and undeserved
were given in abundance, confirmed his need for them. But his starvation for
them was daunting. Slayde felt like a man who had fasted for decades, whose
body, accustomed to lack, could withstand only the barest sustenance. He was
filled with her, gorged, and could endure no more of her doting lest he lose
the last of his male dignity.
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