" He pressed her thighs far, far apart. She was wide open to him now, and his muscular, brilliant tongue delved deeper, found and indescribable rhythm and stroked her, her body colluded until they found precisely the rhythm she needed. Her fists knotted the counterpane, and she arched into him, rippling with the untenable pleasure. She hissed her breath through her teeth. She was hot or she was cold or there was some other word that meant both; all she knew was that her skin stung as if every cell of it was alive and singing hallelujah, and that pleasure was a river roaring through her, threatening the very seams of her being. Building, building.
And bliss crashed over her with a white burst behind her eyes. "

― Julie Anne Long , What I Did for a Duke (Pennyroyal Green, #5)