"Perfect," she gasps out, with the first surge of his hips, her legs locking behind him in as fierce a grip as she can manage, just enough to hold on while letting him move with free reign.

She wasn't lying, when she asked for it hard. This feels so necessary, so perfect, so - "So close..."

They're far enough from the castle grounds that the sounds of skin against skin don't carry, but she still chooses to muffle her cries by pressing her lips against the side of his neck, pressing urgent kisses there while she clamps and flutters around him. It's the fact that between one thrust and the next, she angles her hips just enough to make him rub against her clit with ever snap forward, what ultimately does it for her. An intense orgasm tears through her, and she is pure instinct, feral need - nails against his back, teeth against his shoulder, her grip on his cock vicious and greedy and slick.