The sounds had changed.
The earlier sounds had the quality of protest-layered-over-arousal—the jaw's suppression mechanism working hard, the involuntary sounds breaking through over the top of active resistance. These sounds were—the suppression mechanism had been decommissioned at some point during the third orgasm and had not yet been reinstated, and what remained was the direct acoustic output of a woman's body communicating its current state without editorial intervention.
"'—mhn—AHN~—mhn—AHN~—'"
He moved her on his lap.
The wet press of her cunt against his abdomen—slick, hot, the full evidence of her state smeared against his skin with each downward push. His hands on her hips, controlling the pace, lifting and dropping her with the steady authority of someone who had been managing the architecture of this since before she arrived at the ruins.
She had her face against his neck.
He registered this.
