Obviously her beauty, but Alan's money had always attracted beauty, and many beauties spread their cunt lips and other openings for men with money, ev...n without the direct exchange of dollars. No, he knew, it had to be her youth. Alan had never fucked a fourteen year old girl. Back at that age, he had lusted only for his sister — that bitch, he thought again — and satisfied that lust with his strong right hand. His thirst for Dawn would be slaked the old fashioned way, by the friction of girl. He had been through an uneasy night. The prior day had been the funeral of his mentor and his fathers Hand of the King, Jon Arryn. His death had surprised most of the court. Even in his seventies, the Warden of the East had been as healthy as a man half his age and he had passed away in a single night, fallen victim to an unknown illness. Lyonel was not prone to grievance, but his dreams last night had been unpleasant to say the least. Jons words rang through his head and he tried and tried to. More

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