The first brush of his tongue makes her gasp, covering her mouth with one hand, from the surprise of sensation. It's something she could never have imagined. The image of him nuzzling between her legs only adds to it.

She doesn't know what to do. She can't keep still, though it occurs that it might be easier for him if she didn't move. But she can't help it. Little jolts of pleasure roll through her, making her writhe under him, her hips shifting, searching for either escape or to increase the intensity. Her free hand grabs the bedding, twisting it in a fist, releasing then doing it again.

"Arthur!" His name is a desperate rasp, a plea for something, she doesn't really know what. Guidance, help, more, something.