He grunted against her lips, each sound rougher than the last, betraying how close he was to losing the composure he'd clung to for decades. Thessa tightened her legs around his waist, urging him deeper, harder, as if she could pull every part of him into her.
Her body clung to him, greedy for the rhythm. Against the wall of her living room, they burned.
This was a passion smouldering since their first glance now ignited into a wildfire. He thrust into her like he wanted to carve her name into his very bones. She met him stroke for stroke, hips rolling to match his, daring him to give her everything.
A rumble tore from his chest vibrating through her body. He braced one hand against the wall behind her head, as if trying to anchor himself before he lost all sense. His control was fraying—he hadn't touched another like this in years, and now there was no stopping the flood.
The taste of her lips, the fierce look in her eyes—it was undoing him piece by piece.
