Her fingers curled into the furs. When his tongue traced the sensitive crease where thigh met hip a tiny, choked sound escaped before she clamped her mouth shut.
Sol lifted his head just enough to watch her face while his hand finally settled between her legs.
His two fingers slid through the wetness gathered there, parting the soft folds. He rubbed slow, thorough circles over her entrance without entering, feeling the tenacity of her flesh and how quickly the wetness coated his hand in warm strands compared to Veylara.
"This wet just from kissing and grinding," he murmured, voice rough with appreciation. "You really were starving."
Without waiting for her reply, he suddenly pushed one finger inside.
A soft, wet schlick accompanied the intrusion. Scorching, almost syrupy heat coated his finger instantly.
He added a second, then a third, curling them against the front wall and working them in a slow, searching rhythm.
