She shifted down the bed, the coarse sheets whispering beneath her skin. Satou watched her, his dark eyes wide with a mixture of awe and trepidation, his chest rising and falling with rapid breaths.
Lyra paused, her face level with his hips, the musky, masculine scent of him filling her senses. He was beautiful here, too, she thought, a thick, velvety length of him that pulsed with a life of its own under her tentative gaze.
Her first touch was a ghost of a thing, her lips brushing against the very tip. He jolted as if shocked, a sharp, guttural sound catching in his throat. "Gods…"
"Was that… okay?" she asked, pulling back slightly, her heart hammering against her ribs.
"More than okay," he rasped, his voice strained. "It's just… a lot. In the best way."
Emboldened, she did it again, this time letting her tongue dart out to taste the salty drop of moisture that had beaded there.
