She could pull him in - he'd like that - but the little prickle of pain in his scalp is gift enough, under the circumstances. (He likes that, too, more than he would have expected, and fortunately, he has neither time nor reason to reflect further on it.) Even more than the sounds she's been making, all of them encouraging, this moment feels like a triumph to him. He's doing for Vex'ahlia what she did for him, and he's doing it well enough that she wants more.

It's not that he thought he'd crash and burn, but he's buoyed by incontrovertible proof of his success.

With a reaction like that, there's no way that he'll draw back now. He stays the course, letting up on the pressure only in hopes of varying it occasionally, tonguing her clit before closing his lips around it again. His fingers pump into her faster, his free hand resting lightly against her thigh.