To Make a Redfield

By: Madame J. Valentine

It felt good, and she craved more. The tightening of his muscles as he kept his arms around her, keeping her up safely against the wall. Their bodies fused together, heated, damp. No sounds could be heard except the sounds they made, back and forth with each stroke of pleasure.

Delicate hands found their way eagerly into his short brown locks, tugging roughly, only making him move his body faster into hers. Her cries heightening. Eyes, fluttering closed as her toes curled. Knees locked around his waist, feet pushing him in and out.

He moaned, and when he did, it only encouraged her to do more. Her head rested against the wall, hands pulling his hair harder. Her mind couldn't keep up with her body and the next thing she knew, she was on her back. He atop her, engulfed by down, goose-feathered pillows and cold, silk sheets. He was still inside. Moving at the same pace to keep them from being separated.

Her vision blurred and her ears were filled with his screams. They both reached their peak together and came down together. It was warm, and it filled her completely. Their lips met forcefully, and they collapsed against one another. Panting, heated, exhausted.

She rolled on her back, knees brought to her chest. "Do you think this will work?" She asked, looking up at the man who once layed with her as he dressed himself midly, standing at the window, looking back at her.

"I'm sure it did." He said with a grin. Looking down at her, a warm glow to her fair skin. "I love you."

"I love you too."