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... muscle over the armpit, seemingly doing the exact opposite of what he was asked.
Aster almost went to object, but her maw was fiercely pressed onto his own once more before he could manage even a squeak.
He found himself being invaded and consumed by the ravaging wolf again, his fist clenched in vain, still pinned by Stahl’s stronger arm as he squirmed in his ecstasy.
Aster could smell his own sweat on the muzzle now and was even more invigorated by that realization. The ...
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