The sentence ended before it found a verb.
Her saliva hit the table.
Her thighs were shaking with the continuous effort of an involuntary muscular response she couldn't turn off, the deep rhythmic clench of her inner walls working around his cock with the focused, single-minded dedication of a body that had decided this was the most important thing it had ever done.
The heat built from the base of her spine.
She knew this heat. Had experienced smaller versions of it over the years — managed, controlled, scheduled. The kind of release that arrived on time and left quietly and didn't make demands.
This was not that.
