Daenerys pouted as he peeled of his shirt. She had longed to remove it herself. To feel his muscles and skin beneath the fabric. But the shirt was a welcome alternative to muffle her noises. She arched her body down, knees bent and pressing slightly against the sides of his face with her thighs. Daenerys bit down on his shirt, savoring the scent of his skin and stay in the fabric as she moaned. Shocks rushed through her core from his efforts at her clit. She felt as if she would burst.