The entire night, Elias and Lisbeth’s bodies were against one another. She had affixed a collar to his neck, one that bound their souls together, according to her. And it tamed his sexual energy — essentially, his orgasm was under her complete control.
Lisbeth’s hips rode him. Her pussy was so hot and craving, so wet, dripping, grinding into his nose, his tongue, his chin. Her clit was swollen and throbbing and he latched on when he could, sending her into spasms and would make her drive her hips wild.
His cock was deep inside of her throat. She devoured it so messily, so frantically. As if she needed it to survive.
It had been hours. Elias’ tongue was becoming so sore but he continued on.
Lisbeth was addicted to the taste of him. His cock was large. His tongue was large. These two features of men made her quickly realize why her fellow Werewomen were so addicted to using men. She was moaning without wanting to — they simply slipped out of her like explosions. She had never moved her body in such a way in her entire life.