She's easy, she doesn't need much technique — it's enough to get her hot for it, just to feel his hand slip up under her skirt, brushing the insides of her thighs before rubbing up against the thin fabric of her panties. Practice makes perfect, sure, but it's good enough for her that it's him, his hand between her legs and his mouth pressed to hers. That alone probably speaks volumes — but she'd rather kiss the shape of her name and the word want off his lips than dwell on it.

Andy shifts a little closer to the edge of her chair, opening her knees wider as she leans to kiss him harder, one hand thoughtlessly tangling in the thick hair at the back of his head and pulling, just a bit — just enough to strain the roots.

Fucking show me. Without his spell, the words would have been a low mutter, rough around the edges like her voice always gets when he's got her turned on. Touch me.