The quiet did not last.
Elizabeth's hand stayed on him, warm through the fabric, fingers curling in another slow stroke that made Aiden's hips shift under her. She lifted her head from his chest. Dark eyes half-lidded, lips parted. The soft promise of later vanished the second she felt how hard he still was.
"Fuck the quiet," she whispered, voice already rough. "I need you inside me. Now."
She sat up and straddled his thighs. Her hands went straight to the fastenings of his trousers. The fabric gave with a sharp tug. His cock sprang free, thick and aching, the head already slick. Elizabeth's breath hitched.
She wrapped her fingers around him and stroked from base to tip with a firm, greedy twist that dragged a low groan from his throat.
"Look at you," she said, eyes locked on the way he throbbed in her hand. "So fucking hard for me. I've been wet since the garden. Since you put your hand between my legs and made me come on your fingers like a desperate thing."
