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Harder.
Faster.
Deeper.
Claiming.
Marking.
Adoring.
All in an effort to pleasure this odd but miraculous woman who’d sent his life tip over tail in a handful of days. It was all too much too fast, and his body had been primed for too long before this event. Hot sensation rushed through his shaft, tingled in his stones as they drew tight to his body. Sweat trickled down his spine and at his temples, and still he worked her over, for he didn’t want this joining to end.
It did, as all things do, but in spectacular fashion. Anne’s body stiffened. Her moans grew more intense, and as she slipped a hand between their bodies to touch the button he’d tormented earlier, he lost the remainder of his control. Never had he seen anything as titillating as a woman who knew exactly what she wanted, even during intercourse.
His release welled up and over him before he was ready. Benedict didn’t just fall over the edge into bliss. Oh, no, not with Anne. He was hurtled, thrown, violently pitched into a whirling vortex of need and want as sparkling colors swirled around him, everything fighting to steal his breath and sap his strength.
A long scream of satisfaction came from her, ringing in his ears. She clutched at him in a bid to hold him close; her body shaking and her feminine walls convulsing around his pulsing shaft. He shivered both in exhaustion and awe while jets of seed pumped into her core, and still he ground himself against her to prolong the sensations for them both.
Eventually, his strength gave out and he collapsed on top of her, his breathing as ragged as hers. Anne’s arms came around him. She kissed his shoulder, his temple, his cheek, before pressing her trembling lips into the curve of his neck. Wetness came away on his skin.
Was she crying? Had he hurt her? He wanted to her ask about that, but it required too much effort.
For a long time, they remained like that, lost, sated, adrift on a sea of heated contentment and lethargy, and finally Benedict acknowledged to himself what he must have known at the back of his mind all along: he was rapidly going tip over tail for this woman and there was nothing to stop the slide. Remarkably, being with Anne felt much like ballooning.
Flying and falling. For the rest of his life, he’d associate those things with her.
