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And that was when he licked her.

She let out a squeak of surprise.

He made a rumbling laugh and licked again, right down the seam between her legs.

This time she moaned.

It felt like magic, like sparks made of heated wetness. His tongue was like nothing she’d ever expected or experienced before. Firm and also knowing and soft.

He was right. As he began to kiss and taste and lick, she had to acknowledge he’d been correct. Anatomy textbooks, scalpels, and cadavers did not teach this. Not the way her body felt under his ministrations—it was like flying, or how she imagined flying anyway—nor the impossibility of doing anything but accept the pleasure he was doling out in generous handfuls. The sounds too, she hadn’t imagined when she’d thought of the basic function and mechanics of the sexual act. The wet slip of his tongue on her folds and the grunts of approval from Att. Encouragement too, as he found her hand with his and brought it to the back of his head. As clear a communication as words written on a page: guide me, use me, hold me. And noises from her own mouth. Without her volition she panted and keened, making whining sounds of need.

“Say yes.”

She didn’t know what he was asking until his hand left her thigh and found her entrance. A slight nudge. Easy, so easy, despite her virginity.

She nodded.

“Let me in,” Att growled and she remembered he wasn’t looking at her face, but focused on the pinkness between her legs.

“Yes,” she whispered, helpless to do anything but agree to anything he said.

The invasion was painstakingly slow and gentle, and with every eighth of an inch of his finger into her, she needed more.

“Mmm, sweetheart,” he murmured as his index finger finally lodged all the way in and his knuckles were seated at her entrance. “You’re so slick and tight. I can’t wait to have all this around my cock.”

“Yes,” she repeated. That was what she had to have. Obviously. She writhed as he licked her again. It wasn’t his fingers and tongue that would satisfy her, but his cock. “Do it now, Att. Quickly.”

Because they’d already been gone from the ballroom for too long. Her mother would be looking for her soon.

He chuckled, and when she clenched her fist into his hair in irritation, he only laughed harder. “Oh I will, don’t worry. But first…” And he returned to licking her.

But this time, there was the beckoning of his finger inside her. And it was a different level. She arched off the bed, mewing as he built the sensations higher. Just a bit more…

“Give it up, Tam,” he said, then redoubled his efforts, faster, firmer.

She broke. The orgasm washed through her from where he was licking all the way to her toes, making her jerk and cry out. It was overwhelming, a force of nature.

She’d had orgasms by her own hand, of course. When she’d read that such a thing was possible, she’d spent nights figuring out what felt good. But this was different. The combination of Att’s hands on her and his fingers in her, and the way he’d licked her made her body convulse down to her toes.

And she was still partly in that pleasure, the tail end of it, anyhow, when she felt him move.

She made an indistinct sound of protest and reached for him blindly, her eyelids sticky.

“I’m here, I’m here, Tam.” His voice was a reassuring rumble.

The rustle of fabric and the pop of buttons then he stretched over her.

She reached up and linked her hands behind him, encouraging him closer where he’d held himself aloof.

And that was when she felt it, heavy and smooth and hot on her quim.

His erect… she knew the technical term but that didn’t encompass this feeling at all, so her mind shied away from it.

His erectcock. Hard and insistent at her entrance.

“Tam…” He sounded wretched. Tortured. Undone.

There wasn’t a thought in her head but to bring them together. She was open beneath him, but she pushed her thighs further and tilted her hips up.