Rex took control instantly, his hands moving with the expertise of a man who knew how to dismantle a woman's defenses. He backed her toward the bed, his movements commanding.
Diana's moans began to rise, higher and more frequent as his hands roamed every inch of her sensitized skin.
"Mmm... Rex... ah!" The first real moan broke free as his teeth found the sensitive junction of her neck and shoulder.
The room became a symphony of escalating intimacy: the rhythmic creak of the bedframe, the wet sounds of their mouths meeting, the increasingly desperate gasps for air, and Diana's voice, which started as soft whimpers but was rapidly climbing into shameless, unrestrained cries of ecstasy.
Rex was a force of nature, a predator who had claimed his prize, and as he pushed her down onto the pillows, the only thing that existed in the entire Nightwing household was the raw, unapologetic sound of their collision.
