Greta's eyes clenched shut as a sharp gasp was ripped from her when he thrust up, having only theorized what to expect. She wouldn't have called it painful, but it was uncomfortable, intruding. Overly full. For a brief second, she panicked that she'd gone in much too much over her head. And then, involuntarily jerking to relieve the awful pressure, her pelvis twisted to adjust to the angle of him, easing to his size. The way Ludo's lips distracted her certainly helped, and, slowly, the unpleasant burn was like a tingle. Suddenly, she was desperate to move, desperate to kindle that feeling, and found herself nudging, just the lightest oscillation of her hips, against him.
The movements were all pleasure now, and Greta couldn't help the way her hands fought to slide under the material of his shirt, fingers digging in when a stroke hit just the right spot. "Damn," she all but breathed, pulling slightly away from his mouth, "damn, I—just—" she bit off on a cry, "—more."
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