Damien's hands slid up Lyristae's thighs, feeling the tension in her muscles, the way her breath hitched as his fingers traced higher. She was still straddling him, her dress bunched around her hips, his shirt somewhere on the floor.
He could feel her trembling slightly. Not from fear – from anticipation mixed with nervousness.
"How much experience do you have with this?" he asked quietly, his hands settling on her waist.
Lyristae bit her lip. "Theoretically? Extensive. I've read everything. Studied anatomy. Understand the mechanics perfectly."
"That's not what I asked."
"Practically?" Her face flushed deeper. "None. Throughout every live I lived, I only ever wanted to give my body to you."
Eighteen lifetimes and she'd never done this. The realization made something tighten in Damien's chest.
"We can stop if you're not ready."
"Don't you dare." Her hands pressed against his chest. "I've waited long enough. I just... might need guidance."
"I can do that."
