But then—just when she thought it was over—a sharp gasp, half-surprise, half-pleasure, escaped Helena's lips as Selene's hand, cool and deliberate, cupped her breast.
The touch, unexpected yet pulsing in rhythm with the ache Selene had stirred in her, sent a jolt of raw sensation through her. Her breath hitched, her body arching involuntarily—desperate to meet the pressure. To beg for more.
Selene's voice, a low hum against the sensitive skin of Helena's neck, was a tease.
"For a teenager, these are quite... substantial. A proper pair of lungs to practice your breathing exercises."
"No... you're a an archmage, you should know that's not what breathing is for," Helena said, her voice a breathless whisper. She could feel the heat rising up her chest, but it wasn't from embarrassment. "Why are you always teasing me?"
