"You feel so fucking good," he said. "So good."
She breathed out slowly and felt her body follow the breath, the resistance she had been holding softening.
"There she is," he murmured against her hair. He pressed his lips to the back of her neck and kept moving.
The rhythm he built was slow and deep, adjusting the angle between them.
"Luca—"
Faster.
"You still good?" he managed.
"Don't stop….Don't you dare stop."
His free hand found her hip then moved back between her thighs, and the combination of that and him inside her was too much.
She came again. Her walls clenched around him. Each contraction communicating itself to every part of him that was inside her.
"Fuck—" He went with her. His hips drove forward — once, twice, three times — each thrust deep and accompanied by sounds that were equally beyond management, his face buried in her hair, his body shaking.
After a long moment, Luca lifted his head from her hair.
"You're going to be late," she said.
