Mary breathed Much’s name against the side of his face as she held him close. (Much in that moment and not Miller’s Son. She so often only called him Miller’s Son, an affectionate title of a name, usually accompanied by some sort of teasing tone, but right now he could be Much.)
She tilted her hips up to meet Much’s with every thrust, and each movement drew at the orgasm he’d started with his mouth. She was already so close that it didn’t take long at all for her to fall apart, even more turned on by the way he kept moving inside of her as she tightened and spasmed around him, fingers gripping him close to her. She thought maybe she said something desperate and trembling in the moment, but it was gone from her as soon as it was said.