Page 19 of Love in Times of Contempt

"I can see the strain. Let me help." He wet his bottom lip in a slow swipe of his tongue.

Her muscles and tendons numb, her clit cried for friction. He grabbed her hips with firm hands again, fingers digging into her plump flesh, keeping them in place as he braced his feet on the bed.

"Say yes. Let me do this." His eyes roamed her face, watchful. "You know I can do this. I'll give you what you need."

She let go of his neck, hands on his shoulders again, and she dug her nails into him.

"Show me."

No sooner than the words had left her, he pushed his hips up and drove into her.

"Yes. Hell," she panted.

He doubled his speed. "I knew you'd break. I love doing this to you."

"Fuck. Liam." It was her turn to whimper. "Right there. Oh my god. This position is too good."

She must have gotten louder, because he admonished her.

"Shhhh, quiet." Her voice died in her throat, unconsciously doing as he said.

Despite his body working hard to fuck her, and although his voice sounded raspy, he didn't seem breathless. She, on the other hand, couldn't keep up. Her body melted, taking his fervent attack in. He wrapped his arms around her, holding on to her as he pumped hard into her, her mind blank, not enough air in her lungs.

"That's right," he said. "Good girl."

Her orgasm exploded without warning, tremors waving and cresting through her body. She shook against him, his arms tightening up around her.

"F—fuck," he said, keeping up the frenzied rhythm of his hips. "There's— nothing— better… God. Nothing better— than you coming— on my cock."

The haze of her climax dissipated, her senses catching on to the room again: the muffled sounds of their breathing and straining bed frame, the clean smell of their sweat, the dim light of a bed lamp.

The grin she gave him felt feline on her face.

"I can take you. Fuck me 'til you come."

"Holy shit. Keep talking like that."

She raked her nail over his chest, relishing on his glazed eyes and slack mouth. "You want me to tell you how good you feel?"

"Yeah."

"How I feel tender and raw and I love what you do to me?"

"Fuck. Yes."

"That the way you fill me up makes me feel on fire?"

"Ana—"

His hips buckled and faltered as he spilled himself into her.

"Yes, like that," she said, bending down to kiss his jaw.

Still connected, she rested on top of him, head on his shoulder. She could smell the faint traces of cologne and sweat on his neck, sweet and musk and intoxicating.

His arms had loosened up around her as he recovered, but tightened again in a loving hold around her back.

"I sometimes don't have the words to describe how perfectly you fit me," he said. "I wish I did."