.. substitutes, my lord. Yes, I’ve lived a long time and I know an elitist, blue-blooded aristocrat when I meet him,” Maryann guessed partly wrong... partly right.I was in no mood to correct her on that point, of course. It was highly useful to have her think of me as a lord, after all. Which I was, but only in Westeros. Which thought brought to mind my solution. Yes, of course! I would grab unworthy folks from Westeros and serve them up to Maryann Forrester, keep her from chasing Sam Merlotte.. Her hard, pink nipples jutted out from her soft, firm breasts and begged to be sucked and pinched.I grabbed her arm, walked her to my bedroom and positioned her facing the foot of the bed. When she spotted the six, neatly coiled ropes on the mattress she turned to me, hoping I would provide an explanation, or at minimum, a hint of what was in store for. I held her gaze as I reached a rope from the bed and uncoiled it.I placed my hand in the middle of her back. My touch raised goosebumps on her. More

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