" This time he surged into her, until the hair of his groin mingled with hers.
She groaned softly.
When her eyes opened, he asked, "Was that painful?"
She shook her head. "Not at all. It felt very nice."
Well, hell. Nice was not a word he would use to describe what he was feeling. The top of his head was about to blow off.
He paid more attention to her breasts, cupping one while he gently suckled the other. Then he kissed her again, thumbing her nipples, keeping up the stroking rhythm. Her breathing was keeping time. Each time he surged within her, she would gasp. Each time he withdrew, she made a strangle little sound and her hands gripped his arms tighter.
"Is it nice?" he asked against her ear.
"Yes," she said, but that one word seemed to cause her a great deal of trouble.
"How nice?"
She groaned when he began to move a little faster. If he were truly blessed he'd be able to bring her to satisfaction before his own.
But it would be a tight race.
"Oh, Ross."
"Very nice?"
She made a noise in the back of her throat.
She pulled her mouth away from his, her eyes flying open.
"Ross, oh, Ross."
In the next instant, she wrapped her legs around him and raised her hips. Her whole body trembled, her channel gripping him, milking him until he had no choice but to surrender. "

― Karen Ranney , The Virgin of Clan Sinclair (Clan Sinclair, #3)