Ayame held onto him like the water itself had turned unreliable.
Her fingers were locked around his shoulders, nails pressing into the muscle there, and she breathed against the crook of his neck in long shaking pulls while the last waves of her orgasm moved through her and refused to fully let go. She'd never felt anything like it. Had heard descriptions — the women in her houses spoke frankly among themselves when they thought she wasn't listening — but description hadn't prepared her for the actual experience of it, the way her entire body had simply stopped being hers for those long shuddering seconds, seized by something enormous and given back afterward in pieces.
Her legs were useless. She could feel it — the water holding her up more than her own knees were — and a distant part of her that still had access to pride found that enormously embarrassing. The rest of her didn't have the capacity to care.
Nathan held her while she recovered.
