That feeling. The bed, rough carpet, or cold tile on her knees. Digging into the skin, leaving blossoms of red color. Complete and utter surrender to the other feeling coursing through her body. A scalding ripple moving outward to her toes and fingers. His hands warm and rough grip her hips, seemingly reshuffling with the rippling wave. Reaching for something? All he can focus on is his body joined with hers. Her physical mark of pleasure gathering at the base as a sticky, warm substance. The pace is deep, slow thrusts only sliding halfway before she catches her breath. He listens as it quickens, as dark polished fingers reach back and scrape along his thigh. She cums in a rush, a tightness of deep muscles. He thrusts faster, harder making her scream out the pleasure they both feel. She looks back at him and says, "don't stop." Arching her back, he grabs her throat fucking her without any thought. White noise. His own scalding ripple starts, faster chasing the high. He cums inside her, his balls pressed against her. White noise. They collapse in a sweaty blissful heap.