Lucy had completely dropped any restraint. She lay flat on her back, one leg pulled high and stretched near her face, keeping herself wide open. Her hips were lifted, fingers moving between her legs—three of them now—slick and steady as she worked herself harder. She didn't try to hide anything. Her anuz was fully exposed as she spread herself wide, leaving nothing hidden, already close to climax just from staring at the bulge straining against Cassian's pants.
It was pathetic. That's what she told herself. Getting worked up over nothing more than the outline in his clothes. The male version of a camel toe. The thought made her feel a flash of shame.
But the shame only pushed her further.
Cassian noticed. There was something different about her. Other women needed to be pushed, needed their embarrassment forced out of them. Lucy didn't. She leaned into it. She didn't flinch from the dirty side of it. If anything, she embraced it.
