He twisted his tongue against her folds, slipping between them and around them. It was messy, there was no pattern or reason to his movements, but it was obvious she enjoyed them by the way her breath turned higher pitched with each one. Her body dipped. Her thighs moulded around his face like they wanted to finish cracking it. He would have let her. He would have died a happy Duskwalker with his head between her thighs.
