His body covering mine, one arm around my shoulders, he holds me close. The other hand is flat over my cheek, and his forehead rests on mine.
When his eyes open again, he says, “Somehow, no matter how often we do this, how often I am inside you, it's never enough. Never too much.”
“No, never, Master.”
He moves within me, nuzzling into the crook of my neck and shoulder. All unbidden, a whimper escapes me as I rise to meet him, welcoming his body into my own, rocking with his movement. The scent of him: heady, musky and male, fills my nostrils, intoxicating me. My world is filled with him.
The day is hot and still now, almost silent. High above, a skylark warbles its way to heaven and somewhere close, a cricket chirrups. The sound of my breathing, and of my Master’s, is loud as we rock a
