She had been kissed before, that was for sure. A pretty girl like her had a small amount of experience in such things but nothing ever so exciting. Mostly she had casual dating experiences with wizards like Stephen and Irving, purebloods with the tendency toward artistic expression more than anything else. They were much louder and obvious in what they wanted so this experience, with a reserved sort of warlock, was very new.
And Lyra liked it, a lot. She had been dying for him to kiss her fierce for what seemed an age now but this kiss was perfection. It wasn't at all awkward (in her opinion) and he possessed such a gentle touch that she half believed she might've broken like a porcelain doll had he been much rougher.
Of course, the softness of it all didn't last very long when she was as ravenous as any starved person might be. Lyra's hand, still close to his temple where she had been touching his hair, planted it's self against his jaw then drifted up so her fingers could sink into those dark curls. She parted her lips just enough that when she turned her body more into him she could press close and deepen that kiss with a sweep of her tongue against his bottom lip.
Lyra couldn't seem to be close enough, either. She shifted to face him then moved forward until one of her legs happened to situate it's self across his lap, the other knee drawn up slightly.