Just like her first orgasm, taking her without warning as she rode his cock with wanton abandon, the moment she forgot everything but her own pleasure was perfect, it was everything as she rode his face the same way. He was grateful for that touch, that grip of her hands holding his pinned over his head to keep him grounded--he was so lost in her orgasm he could have come himself, but held on, let her hold onto him, waited as he fucked her through her release with his tongue.

There was no thought as he drank her down, struggling beneath her weight only to shift his head so he could lap away her slick, catch every last taste of her. He couldn't even think of himself as hers, he simply was. His mind, his mouth, his body, his pleasure--in that moment she lost control again, he was nothing else save for hers.

And in that maelstrom of arousal and the sweet obliteration of complete surrender, he knew a contentment, a serenity that he didn't think was possible before he'd given her his heart.