He flicked the blood from his scimitar and charged at the back of another caravan guard. The desertman was ignoring me again. I wanted to howl my frus...ration. My feet threw up sand as I dashed at a diagonal line to intercept his attack, my dagger clutched between my teeth. He waved his scimitar over his head as he charged past, camel’s feet throwing up sand.I jumped, reaching.I snagged a leather strap holding his saddle. I grunted, my body smacking into the camel’s rear leg. The rider didn’t. At first she resisted because that wasn't the way things were with them. Greg wasn't just kissing her to get her started, he was trying to build or imply a sense of true intimacy, and what she and her son did was only sport fucking. It was just bodies, no emotion. It had only started by accident. When she hit her forties, she'd noticed that she craved sex far more than her husband did. He gave it to her every day, but he was also getting older and could only keep going for so long and she. More

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