[It's not exactly a moan, but she does let out a guttural kind of sound in her throat, biting her lip. There's a roughness to it that's contrasted delightfully with the care and gentleness of his other touches, and she does wonder, in the back of her mind, whether that roughness could be brought out a little more, another time.]
[But there's a sweetness, too, to the cautious way they're both moving, getting used to one another. This is perfect, she thinks. If she is to lose her maidenhead, this is how she would wish it to be.]
[She grinds the heel of her hand slowly over his crotch, twice more, and then takes both hands away to fumble with the fastenings of his breeches. There's something to be said for slow and steady, but there's also something to be said for skin on skin, for pushing her callused hand under his waistband and feeling the heat of him, the way his skin shifts under her touch.]
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[But there's a sweetness, too, to the cautious way they're both moving, getting used to one another. This is perfect, she thinks. If she is to lose her maidenhead, this is how she would wish it to be.]
[She grinds the heel of her hand slowly over his crotch, twice more, and then takes both hands away to fumble with the fastenings of his breeches. There's something to be said for slow and steady, but there's also something to be said for skin on skin, for pushing her callused hand under his waistband and feeling the heat of him, the way his skin shifts under her touch.]