He braces his feet on the sheets, now rucked up and muddled beneath them, and runs his free hand down her side to her hip and over the soft swell of her bottom. With each caress, he coaxes her to press against him, to arch her back and press into his tongue, his fingers.

Caspian lets go only to switch his hands, his head shifting so he can pay the same sweet attention to her other breast, while he strokes the first, still wet from his mouth.