Singers, Henry had discovered, often made the most wonderful noises during sex, and conversely some of the most pleasingly vocal lovers he'd ever had turned out to have good voices. It was one of the reasons he insisted that any time Whitehall required female singers in the studio or for live performances, they found their way across Henry's "casting couch" before belting a single note. Gabriella, for her part, was making beautiful music for him.
"That's it," he growled, cheering her on as he felt her body shudder and pulse around him. "That's it, yes." Henry waited, stroking slowly and deliberately while Gabriella's climax subsided. Pressure was building inside his own belly, and he knew he was close.
Henry let her legs slip down off his arms, and leaned forward until his body was pressed tightly against Gabriella's. With his hands near her shoulders, he held her between him and the couch. His thrusts picked up some speed, and the change in angle strained his control. "Coming, love... I'm coming," he said before lowering his head and crushing his mouth on Gabriella's. Henry exploded inside of her.