Luneshale Pass [m] body right teeth white knife sharp gettin'

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Earn his favor.
The teeth of the redgirl graze at the fur of darkwoven cheek; a lamb pursued by shepherd, breath quivering. I know many, her voice drips as a soft croon, hips swiveling to brush against his chest as her body whirls yet again, seeking the nightshade embrace as if it were the most forbidden of fruit. do you prefer to be the teacher or the student, my prince?
Her eyes flutter closed, and in the sparks her brain conjures, she sees the cold seafoam of Khusobek.