He leaned. Down. His face, descending toward her crotch, was calm. Focused. The green eyes, which had been on hers, dropped. To the wet silk. To the dark hair beneath. To the outline of her pussy, the swollen lips, the engorged clit that was visible through the transparent fabric.
She closed her eyes.
His mouth found her pussy.
The contact, his lips through the wet silk, was warm. Soft. Not the brutal, demanding contact she had expected. Not the 'I-am-going-to-destroy-you' assault that he had inflicted on the others. This was different. Gentle. Exploratory. His lips, pressed against her mound, kissed. The motion, the softest touch, made her body jerk. The contrast, the 'I-expected-violence-and-received-tenderness' contrast, was more devastating than any force.
