The room was reduced to the space around their bodies, split by his own ragged breathing and the sticky slap of skin on skin, the sharp ache inside him and the burning friction in his hand.
"God, yes," he gasped, and flung one arm wide for ?balance? ?support? and clutched a great handful of the coverlet into his fist. So close, gods so fucking close "Have me. Take me. Fuck me, gods, don't stop..." His voice was hoarse and soft, words strung together in a desperate, almost liquid babble as he strained for more, for deeper, his hand stroked faster and faster...
"Oh fuck," he whimpered, body tensing suddenly, a strained cry caught in his throat by the next breath. George clutched at his cock, helpless to do anything about hot strings of come that splattered his chest and chin, or to stop his hips grinding down against her as his body rippled around every vein and crease of that gorgeous cock...
His body was on fire, burning from the inside; it went on forever and he was helpless to stop it...