For one cruel moment, she thought he might withdrawal from her completely but before she could even think to muster a whimper of protest, he pounded back into her, sending her body and the dresser beneath it trembling, her pert breasts bouncing with the force of it.

A moan escaped her lips, half formed because he did it again, forcing a gasp of delight from her, the sound utterly obscene in it's pitch and volume. If the room weren't a suite, she'd feel for their neighbors, what with the way the dresser slammed against the wall with each movement, the painting on wall above it quivering in protest.

As good as it felt, as thrilling as the sound of his thighs slapping violently against her own, her hands combed through his hair restlessly, her lips curved against his, "Again."