With a soft, evocative sigh she eased, her body giving, accepting. Instinctively she contracted the muscles of her stretched sheath, felt him there, and shivered. Gritting his teeth against the inevitable effect of that evocative caress, he drew back just a little, then forged in again, filling her even more completely. Her breath left her and she clutched, both with her hands and her body. He eased back again, filled her anew; her breasts swelled as she breathed in, then she followed his rhythm. He set the pace, slow, steady, only gradually increasing as he sensed her response, as desire rose, fresh and urgent, and the fires of passion reclaimed them, and the conflagration built. And it was more, so much more, than the act had ever been. Reaching deeper, further, into some part of him he hadn't known could be touched, the intimate surrender and the possession sank to his bones. Her surrender to him, and his to her; his possession of her, and hers of him. This wasn't any simple joining, the usual trading of pleasure, but one intricate and involved, layered with meaning, coiled and twined with feelings and emotions he'd never before encountered, not in this arena. Not between the woman who lay beneath him, so gladly and wantonly accepting him into her body, and him.