His finger curled inside her. Slow. Pressing forward against the spot that made her back arch clean off the surface behind her. Her hand shot up and grabbed his wrist, not to stop him, but to hold on, to keep it there.
He let her. Didn't move. Just stayed there, knuckle-deep, his other hand buried knuckle-deep in her dripping core, his other hand cupping the side of her face with a tenderness that contrasted the raw invasion below. His palm was rough,yet it cradled her like fragile porcelain, thumb tracing the curve of her cheekbone where tears of overwhelming sensation threatened to spill.
"You didn't answer," he said.
Elizabeth's grip tightened, her knuckles whitening as her hips bucked involuntarily, grinding down onto his finger with a wet, obscene squelch desperation that made his ears twitch forward. her inner walls fluttering around him, begging for more.
"Since the…" She swallowed and tried again.
