How did her name in his voice sound so good? Lyra bit down a cry but then realised that, this time, he hadn't asked her to be quiet at all, and maybe it didn't matter right now, and maybe she wanted to moan with abandon as he pushed her closer (and as he hissed her name to bring her closer.)
And maybe it was the act of letting herself cry out that pushed through the final thin barrier, or maybe it was the little shudder than ran through him that also touched her or maybe a combination of both beneath the rhythm of his fingers but pleasure coursed through her body, after that. Intense and hot and so good— she arched and she shuddered and she closed her eyes and she had to reach down and physically slow his hand down, though she didn't pull it away, still wanting the slower slide of his fingers against her after the first wave had hit her. Wanting it to coax her down slowly.
"Oh my god, Avery," she managed to gasp, letting herself sink back against his bed, all her muscles loose, her lungs far too small for her body. "Fuck, yeah, that... yeah."