Lor built it slowly. Long, shallow strokes first, so that her body learned the shape of him.
Then deeper, with his hand sliding up from her hip to the small of her back, holding her tilted just right.
The count she had in her mind to keep her mind sane, broke down.
She forgot numbers and started saying his name instead, and then nothing at all, only sounds that were pushed out of her on every thrust.
He reached around and found her clit with two fingers, and she clenched so hard around him that he nearly lost his grip.
"There," she said, high and breathless. "There. Lor. I'm going to..."
"Go on."
She came with her face in the quilt and a long, shaking moan that she tried and failed to bite down.
Her walls rippled and clamped on him in waves.
He held still and let her take it, buried to the hilt, with her heat milking him and every muscle in his legs locked against the pull.
When it finally let go she slumped forward on her forearms, panting.
