There was barely enough coherent thought for her to hold onto, nothing that would stand more than a few seconds between them. He was intoxicating, testing every last piece of her willpower as he matched her rhythm and left her breathless in more ways than one. She needed to keep moving, despite the tight ache that was blooming in her. He'd worked her long enough to leave her almost over-stimulated; every upwards press of his hips had her matching him, the effort and feeling making her crack under the pressure.

He rocked up and she gasped, digging her fingers into his arms. She was far from hurting as she answered with a sharp dip of her own, her thighs quivering with the strain. She wasn't about to regret it, though she knew she wouldn't hold out much longer.

Lips attached to his jaw and then his throat, laving small circles of tongue in between breathy moans. She rocked against him and whimpered.