The world narrowed to the primal rhythm of our joining, a slick, urgent cadence that echoed the frantic beating of our hearts. His hands, possessive and sure, gripped my hips, guiding me into a deepening tempo that made my breath catch in ragged gasps. Every nerve ending sang with the friction, a building heat that coiled low in my belly, tightening with each powerful thrust. I could feel the tension coiling within him too, a gathering storm communicated through the hardening of his muscles and the guttural sounds torn from his throat. The air itself seemed to thicken, charged with the scent of our exertion and the sweet anticipation of release. A final, shuddering plunge sent us both over the edge, my own climax crashing through me in waves of blinding white pleasure. His followed tantly, a hot, liquid pulse that painted my skin with the evidence of his surrender. Warmth spread across my flushed cheeks and closed eyelids, a startling, intimate claim that left me trembling and utterly spent. We collapsed together, breathless and slick, into the heavy, satisfied silence that followed the storm.
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