There is something in the way he looks at her, with that same hunger that he showed before, that thrills her where it should, perhaps, embarrass her. She can almost feel the heat of his gaze raking over her skin, as warm as the press of his hand against her hip, as the distant glow of the fire. Her own eyes follow him, and when his gaze returns to her face, he will find it met with steel-grey eyes visibly darkened with want, high cheekbones flushed beneath the tan, lips a little parted.
His touch surprises her. It has no right to surprise her, not when she's been so thoroughly warned and when she's had all this time to ready herself - but it surprises her nonetheless, with the sudden bolt of sharp desire that it sends juddering through her, more sudden and more intense than her own hand has ever won. Without meaning to, she lets out a short gasp, her hips twitching against his hand and her muscular thighs tensing, her cunt clenching instinctively against his palm as if to pull him in.
Éowyn bites her tongue, shocked at herself, a little embarrassed by how easy it is to drag that reaction from her - and, at the same time, wondering what the rest of the night holds, if this is still only the start of it. Wondering if she can make him feel the same. Wondering, as if for the first time, at what pleasure and what power there might be for a woman in all of this, if she can seize her part of what, until now, she has always assumed on some level to be a man's experience.
As if spurred on by that thought, she reaches for him again, her hand coming flat against his chest, her fingers pressing just a little as she resumes her exploration of his body, enjoying the heat of his skin and the pulse she feels just beneath the skin.
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His touch surprises her. It has no right to surprise her, not when she's been so thoroughly warned and when she's had all this time to ready herself - but it surprises her nonetheless, with the sudden bolt of sharp desire that it sends juddering through her, more sudden and more intense than her own hand has ever won. Without meaning to, she lets out a short gasp, her hips twitching against his hand and her muscular thighs tensing, her cunt clenching instinctively against his palm as if to pull him in.
Éowyn bites her tongue, shocked at herself, a little embarrassed by how easy it is to drag that reaction from her - and, at the same time, wondering what the rest of the night holds, if this is still only the start of it. Wondering if she can make him feel the same. Wondering, as if for the first time, at what pleasure and what power there might be for a woman in all of this, if she can seize her part of what, until now, she has always assumed on some level to be a man's experience.
As if spurred on by that thought, she reaches for him again, her hand coming flat against his chest, her fingers pressing just a little as she resumes her exploration of his body, enjoying the heat of his skin and the pulse she feels just beneath the skin.