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Zantu had seen her struggling and had meant only to check her body for salvage, a weakness of his inherited from his father. The glint of gold around her throat had made him dare to approach. Then she’d wrapped herself around him like a squid. A very hot squid. His cock had erupted from its sheath like a narwhal’s horn through ice, ready to claim her heat before his brain even had time to process the act. The irrevocable act.
