I add a second finger and keep my mouth working her clit, and she's gripping my horns hard now. I begin to move my fingers in earnest, pumping and pressing. Her walls flutter around them, clenching rhythmically, and the orgasm crests under my hand.
"Dem." My name is the last word that leaves her lips before her whole body arches off the mattress and she screams loud enough that I'm grateful for the ocean drowning it out.
I seal my mouth over her and suck as she comes undone. Her release floods my tongue, warm and sweet, and I work her through every shudder and every ragged breath, thorough and unhurried, until she's boneless and trembling and her fingers have gone slack in my hair.
She stares at the ceiling for a moment.
"I would say something," she says in a tiny, breathless gasp, "but I appear to have lost the capacity for language."
I press one kiss to the inside of her knee.
"I'll take it. And now, I'll take you."
I turn her over, draw her hips up until she's on her hands and knees on the mattress, and she makes a startled sound as I position myself. The morning light spills gold across her back, across the lines of her shoulder blades, the curve of her spine, and I run one hand from the nape of her neck all the way down to the small of her back and hold it there.
I slide home in one long, unhurried stroke. She takes me so perfectly it knocks the air out of me. Hot and impossibly tight, her walls gripping every inch of me, a soft, snug fit that feels like the only place I have ever been meant to be.
The broken little noise she makes wrecks something in me, and I hold still for a beat, just to breathe, just to catalogue this feeling.
I start to move.
Slow. Deep. My hand spread at the small of her back, her breathing coming in short, ragged bursts. The word she says into the pillow might be my name or might be a different kind of prayer altogether and honestly both interpretations are fine with me.
I pick up the pace and she braces against the headboard and the world contracts to this: the slick heat of her around me, the sound of our bodies together in the early morning quiet, the way she takes every thrust and presses back for more. The pleasure builds at the base of my spine, slow and irresistible, and I feel her beginning to flutter around me again, her walls quivering with the early warning of another release.
I reach around her hip and find her clit with my thumb.
"Come for me," I say against the back of her neck. "I want to feel you come all over my cock."
She makes a sound that is completely and entirely undone and her hips jerk and then she clenches around me so tight that my rhythm breaks, stutters, and I drive deep and hold there as the orgasm tears through her. Her walls pulse around me in waves. It's too much, the grip of her, the warmth, the sound of her coming apart with my name on her lips.
The release hits me all at once.
I come with a growl pulled from somewhere deep in my chest, burying myself to the hilt as I spill inside her, holding her hips to me while every wave crashes through and the pleasure goes on and on.
Afterward we lie there while our breathing returns to something workable. She turns over and tucks herself backagainst my side and something in my chest does a slow, complicated thing.
The thought arrives unbidden and lands with the weight of a fact: I am not letting this go.
I was a fool once and let my wounded pride cost me the love of my life. I was terrified of losing her and I lost her anyway.
Not this time. This time, I will do whatever it takes to keep her right there, where she belongs. In my arms and in my bed, content and safe.
"I have to go check on Agatha," she says into my shoulder, pulling me from my thoughts.
"Not yet."
She tilts her head up and gives me a look that is trying to be stern and is not quite succeeding. "Demetrius."
"Five more minutes."
She considers it. Then she puts her head back down.
I get the five minutes. And then she's up, totally unbothered by her nudity, which I find profoundly attractive and tell her so. She doesn't dignify this with a response, but her mouth twitches like she's fighting a smile. She pulls my old t-shirt over her head and it's so big, it covers her all the way to her knees.
She goes out after giving me a quick little wave of her hand.
The room is quiet without her in it. I stare at the ceiling for a few moments and then I get up. I know exactly what to do.
