Her face was flushed a deep crimson, her cheeks blooming with the color of heat and shame, and her lips—wet and bruised—had darkened to an even deeper red.
Zyren licked his own lips, slow and deliberate, his gaze drinking in every quiver and tremble of her bare, heaving form beneath him.
She writhed uncontrollably, the soft, broken sounds spilling from her lips only feeding the fire in his eyes. He could see it—her entire body had become painfully sensitive, trembling on the edge of a release she hadn't even known her body was capable of.
"Wa-wait!" her voice cracked, a desperate gasp that tried to hold back what had already begun.
His fingers moved faster, more deliberately, with practiced precision, dragging her to that precipice again and again, each movement of his hand wringing another desperate sound from her lips.
