With a groan, Hyacinthe leaned over to give her an open-mouth kiss, right where she gleamed the brightest, his tongue brushing over her to claim some of that wetness for himself. It got all over him, until his face was just as shiny and damp as hers; his nose was pressed against her, his cheeks soaked in her.

He finished rolling on the condom, then reached up to hold her hips still, pulling her back against his mouth while his lips and tongue sought out her pearl, laving it over and over again. He needed a moment to come back away from the precipice, to make sure she was wet and lax and ready for him.

Because as soon as he knew he wouldn't spend on his first thrust, he was scrambling up to his feet and pushing inside of her with the same careful brutality that he'd claimed her fucking mouth.