He has her against the wall as soon as they get through the door.
Her back hits solid wood with a resounding thump, but before she can even begin to care, her shirt's in shreds on the floor, her jeans are down around her knees and his hand has done some sort of miraculous vanishing act with her knickers before stroking fast and hard in the slippery folds between her legs.
She screams, a sharp, keening cry that shoots straight to his groin.
Then barely has enough breath to scream again before he goes there again faster and harder and her knees buckle and nearly hit the floor.
They shouldn't have done that, she thinks distantly, because the only thing holding her up now is his hand between her legs and oh god, is it possible to survive pleasure so sharp it's ecstatic agony shearing through her body?
She screams and screams again as the orgasm simply tears her apart.
And has barely begun to sob when he hoists her off the floor and pins her against the wall with his hips.
He can feel her grinding herself shamelessly against him, desperate for any friction she can find.
But when he lifts his head to see her face, he is the one in very real danger of sinking to his knees. Because somehow her face is dead center of a beam of sunlight, and the radiant light sets her eyes and hair afire and turns her skin into living candlelight. She has her head thrown back against the wall – baring her throat and breasts to his seeking mouth – and her chest is heaving, mouth slack as she fights to breathe through the conflagration rocketing between every nerve in her body. To see her golden and flushed, eyes glowing, tears streaming down her cheeks as she surrenders immediately and unconditionally to the wildfires of her own overwhelming passion – to see the unbridled ecstasy written in every curve and line of her face –
He nearly comes right there.
Convulsively he crushes her against the wall, grinds himself against her and muffles her own hoarse sob with his mouth on hers.
Somehow – neither of them know – their clothes end up in pieces on the floor.
And then he's inside her.
"Wanted you like this all day," he rasps in her ear. "Wanted you when you gave the orders like you were born for it, couldn't live without you when you dressed down the idiot constable with a smart mouth – you were so eloquent, so beautiful, so imperious. Can't believe I'm yours. Can't believe you're mine. Can't believe I have you."
She mewls helplessly, language lost in the ether along with thought and breathing.
And then she convulses around him, coming apart in his arms.
He nearly blacks out at the white-hot firestorm of pleasure that utterly consumes him, that burns him alive, and then, miraculously, brings him back to life.
Panting and flushed and radiant, she smiles.
And the world starts turning again.