His hand moved between her thighs. His fingers found her — slick and swollen — and he drew his palm back and delivered a precise slap directly against her cunt.
Pain replacing pleasure. Shocking her system, resetting it, pulling her back from the edge by force.
Livia yelped.
"Now," he said pleasantly, settling back between her thighs, "from the top." He smiled. "My pretty cherub." He pushed inside her again.
All of it. All at once. He set a pace immediately — fast, driving, no preamble — and the shock of it after the deliberate withdrawal pulled a sharp cry from her lips. Her hands flew to his back, fingers spreading across the muscle of him, holding on as he moved.
His muscles were visibly tensed — arms braced either side of her head, jaw set, a fine strain running through every line of him that she recognised now as restraint. He was holding himself back. Keeping himself at the edge of the edge through sheer force of will. His eyes dropped between them.
