"Mmmmhhhh," Amber purred, pleased. Her finger's easy glide in without had already told her as much, but it was so damn satisfying to hear Eric himself beg for more-- well, begging by his current standards of comfort. And if he was, jesus, actually asking, then she wouldn't hold back. (Later she wouldn't say I told you so. At least, not in those words. Yeah, she was right, that was reward enough, as was his reaction right now, fucking himself on her finger; didn’t need to rub it in his face. Much.)

Her index finger had stretched him out enough to add another; he took that in too, quickly, as if he’d grown impatient and was sucking in everything that came near. As for going in deeper, Eric himself did that, one of his flexes driving her fingers in further. Amber moaned, from deep inside her throat; shifted to lean more weight on her already-tired knees so that she could bring her left hand between her legs, rubbing her labia not to bring herself off but to make the pleasure spread, help take the edge off her own need. (So wet, from her previous orgasm, so full--) Let her focus on him, taking more of him into his mouth, working her jaw constantly, hardly licking now, aimed just as suction. The saltiness of his precome was everywhere, in the back of her throat, on her lips, accentuating the taste of his cock. Her index and middle finger coiled in deeper, probing, searching, massaging; didn’t take long to find that hardened elevation. There. Amber smiled for a second, winced; hurt to do so, with her mouth full. But it was still with triumph that she stroked his prostrate, gently yet firmly, absolutely convinced it’d make him forget all his hesitations, and more besides. C’mon, she thought to herself, Eric, give in. Don’t fight it.