Iselynne was still beneath him, ruined and glowing.
The harem sigil pulsed faintly on her lower belly, shining with soft gold light in the dark. Her eyes were half-lidded, lips parted, her breath slow and uneven. She looked like a woman pulled straight from the gods' hands—painted in sweat, smeared in cum, trembling from hours of worship.
But even now—after everything—Sylvaris could feel her pussy flutter around his cock, still warm, still clenching, still needing.
She's relentless... He smirked.
And his cock hadn't gone soft even a little. It refused to. His partner was not done yet.
He leaned over her, brushing strands of silver-blue hair from her damp cheeks. She looked up at him, glassy-eyed and mindless—but the moment she saw his face, something flickered. The faintest spark of recognition.
"Master..." she whispered.
