Cecilia felt something like being flooded; with warmth, with emotion, with pleasure. She felt more closely connected to Owen than ever before, permanently tied to him, safe, loved, and that did just as much for her as the physical act, and likely much more. She couldn't be quiet, didn't even consider trying to hold anything in. She held tighter to him, moaning his name and breathing hard in his ear. Occasionally her lips brushed against whatever bit of his skin she had access to, and as he moved deeper within her her teeth grazed across the side of his neck as she cried out. Her hand in his hair briefly became a fist before she forced her fingers to loosen. In time both her breathing and the rhythm of her body grew erratic, her sounds of pleasure more frequent. She felt as though her heart might burst, and she would have gone happily.
Desperation began to rise within her, her touches grew greedily. Finally she was practically gasping, practically begging, "Owen, don't stop, I'm going to come."