"Satou," she begged, her voice barely recognizable. "Please. Touch me."
He looked up, his eyes meeting hers, and held her gaze as he finally, finally, let his fingers drift through the curls at the apex of her thighs. She whimpered, her legs falling open in silent invitation. His touch was light, a mere whisper against her slick, heated folds, and her entire body jolted.
"You're so wet," he murmured, his voice full of wonder. "All for me?"
"All for you," she confirmed, her back arching as he circled a finger around her clit. Oh, gods. Her eyes screwed shut, her world narrowing to that single, exquisite point of contact.
He explored her with a novice's curiosity, learning her rhythm, the pressure she needed. When he slid a finger inside her, she gasped at the slight stretch, the unfamiliar fullness. He stilled immediately. "Does it hurt?"
