As a werelynx, Anne was no stranger to moving on four limbs, and she did so with impressive speed and sensual elegance. Within moments, she was on her knees in between Erik's legs. She looked up at Erik, but he didn't pay her another glance.
She pouted lightly, but didn't actually mind. In the end, he was akin to a god in her mind and could do no wrong. If she were to sink into the background and serve as a fluffer tonight, then she'd do so with enthusiasm, because her master deserved no less. She was comfortable in her role as a servant and knew Emma stood above her.
Still, if her efforts could turn Erik's head in her direction again, even for a moment, she'd consider that glance a win.
Having reached her place, Anne wasted no time releasing Erik's rock-hard pole from its confines. First, she gave it a few strokes with both hands—her eyes locked onto the object of her worship with genuine awe—but it wasn't long before her tongue became involved.
