His touch on her head, on her face, is pure heaven. The look on his face makes her heart skip a beat. She pauses, pressing her head into his hands, her eyelids drooping, all the tension bleeding away from her face.

And then she's leaning into his hands where he's touching her in other ways. Back to where they started. She does not break eye contact with him, blinking languidly. She feels so vulnerable to him here, even in the lead. Her thighs tremble as she lowers herself, sliding along his length, stroking soft skin over hard. She's teasing herself as much as she is him. She wants so desperately to please him.