Despite his affirmation, Eric was tensing up again, tightening his muscles. Not as bad as before, but not good, either. Time to go slower, more consistent. Amber circled his sphincter with her fingertip, with only the barest hint of pressure to penetrate him. All of her attention was focused on him, reading every sign she could in his noises, his jerks, his breathing. A surge of arousal filled her, to be making him feel this much, this strongly.

With her other hand, Amber pressed his perineum in a feather-light touch; didn't want to overload him with stimulation. From there, she gently trailed her fingertips to his balls, and cupped them, only barely enclosing them around her hands. And still she stroked his anus, keeping a smooth, fluid motion. The way he hitched, he seemed ready for more. And yet—she remembered how he complained about missing the view, and how much he wanted to see her. Maybe he’d be more comfortable, more excited, if he could see what was happening; see just how hot her touching him was. “Turn over, Eric,” she murmured. “I want you to see this.”