Soft
The smile was a small one, a soft upward quirk of the corners of her mouth. Comfort, it said. Safety.
My eyes skittered away, my teeth searched the skin of my lower lip for a loose bit to tear away (nerves) until a gentle (but insistent) thumb tugged my lip free.
Four fingers curved around and under the corner of my jaw, that thumb pressing carefully forward to rest against my tongue. I wrapped my lips around it, sucked carefully, hesitant but wanting.
"Baby, look at me."
I turned back to an affectionately amused smile. She slipped her thumb away, her whole hand drifting to stroke the nape of my neck.
"Tell me what you need."
"I need you to kiss me, please," I said. The words felt too loud in the room, and I tried to shove back the rush of insecurity; I'm ruining the feeling, the romance, the sexuality of the moment, sexy doesn't sound like that, my voice doesn't sound inviting or heated--
"Good boy." Her kiss as warm and as matter-of-fact as her words.