She gained confidence, her strokes becoming more assured. Then she leaned down, and the first touch of her tongue against him made his hips jerk.
"Sorry," she said, but she didn't sound sorry. She licked him again, more deliberately this time.
"Don't apologize. That's good."
Encouraged, Lyristae took him into her mouth. Just the tip at first, her tongue swirling, then deeper. She had to adjust to accommodate his size, her jaw stretching, but she was determined.
Damien's hand found her hair – not pushing, just holding, grounding himself. The wet heat of her mouth, the pressure of her tongue, the sight of her between his legs – it was almost overwhelming.
She pulled back, catching her breath. "Am I doing it right?"
"Very right. Use your hand too."
She did, coordinating the movements, her hand stroking what her mouth couldn't take. She was learning quickly, finding a rhythm, using her tongue in ways that made him groan.
