She has a lot of expeletives left to sigh into the air, her head tipped back against the tree for balance while he works her pants down. Her heartbeat is a thunderous thing, and she knows without him checking first that she'll be so wet even the simplest of touches will set her off.

But he kisses her first, so when he does touch her, her groan is buried against her lips, a little sob cutting it off as his finger finds her clit. Clever man - her clever man.

"I'm not going to let you go," she warns him, in heated whispers, while he calls himself hers, and his cock brushes against her and her head swims. "Ever."

For now, that means she hikes her leg further up on his hip, opening up for him, eager and ready and honestly, begging for it, in English, in French - she'd do it in old Latin right now if she could. Just so she's at level, she pushes herself up to her toes on her other foot, which has the beautiful, delicious consequence of feeling him slowly sink into her.

"Bill," she chokes out, and grabs onto his shoulders with both hands, nails digging into his skin through the fabric, and with that for a grip, she brings her other leg up around his waist and takes him in to the hilt in one sharp thrust down.