She shuddered beneath him, matching his rhythm. They fell into a slow, rippling motion that had her seeing stars almost immediately, coupled with continuous moaning. It wasn’t like the crashing climaxes of previous couplings; it was more inexorable than that, like the best kind of drunk with no fear of hangovers.
He wanted to keep it tender for now, adoring making love with her in the great outdoors, eyes only for her as he gently rocked in and out of her. He could already feel the pleasure flowing through him, curling in the base of his spine as his hips moved against hers, lips turning up into a smile against her mouth.
It was hard to kiss him and laugh and moan and smile all at the same time. The way he moved, the way they moved together, had her clinging to him, one hand gripping his curls, and whispering his name. She wanted him to feel this good too, and did — something, with her hips and legs, trying to make him cry out her name.