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... t two sizes too big, went rigid as a fence post hammered into frozen earth the instant my slurred whisper—"Fuck me"—slithered into his ear like a serpent coiling through forbidden fruit.
The lute’s last note still hung in the cavern like a bad smell from a beggar’s unwashed breeches, trembling and refusing to die a dignified death.
Renly’s fingers kept plucking on pure reflex, as if the strings were the only thing anchoring him to sanity. His tune floated light and jaunty, a chee ...
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