Every press and nip is expanding the fire under her skin. His hands wander freely as they should. She is committed to guiding Jaskier to hardness, silk to skin is a terrific pleasure. His choice of dress is unmatched. The sky is also blue. Blue as his eyes.

The nudging of his knee and thigh guide her hips into motion to rut against him. Simple action with a beautiful result. Yennefer hums and sighs. "I want you to have your own meditation on spring." Of petals and rich nectar. She won't leave him straining with want. Some men were made to be reduced to whines and shivers. Tonight she promised to take care of him, and in a way care for herself.

She must leave his poor cock alone to remove the wet tiny excuse for her own small clothes. Not without an apologetic peck to his lips. Comically chaste for what she has in store.