Solona's fingers slip and scramble for purchase, the hard snap of his hips against hers driving her against the desk. She's dimly aware of a blossom of pain where her leg is pressing against the wood, which will probably turn into a pretty purple bruise by tomorrow, but it's too distant and unimportant for her to care about when he's taking her like this. The sounds coming out of her, harsh and wordless and much louder than usual, mix rather nicely with the slap of skin and the squeak of sturdy wooden furniture.

Without thinking she slips her hand between her legs, fingertips brushing and circling her clit with a light touch that's completely at odds with his hard thrusts. She's forgotten the role she's supposed to be playing, and the safe word she picked, and she's fairly sure she's momentarily forgotten her own name, her body eagerly letting go of unnecessary thoughts to chase after a single goal. And God, she's already close. Apparently a little manhandling in the right circumstances works for her.