She rises with him, caught up in the rhythm, the pulse of his hips driving her towards the inevitable. She tries to make it last as long as possible, every touch lingering, every breath full of nothing but his scent, his heat.

The moment he utters her name, she shudders, nodding against his temple. She wants to answer, but all that comes out is a plaintive sound, half moan, half plea. Her body knows what it needs, and she couldn't stop now if she wanted to, and she doesn't want to. Her thighs tremble, waves of sensation making it hard to breathe, hard to think. He keeps up the pressure and she can't hold back anymore. There is no thought, save him.