Flowers for Jill

"Say it!" he pulled her hair once more, yanking her head back "Say my name, goddammit!"

No, definitely not a dream. This was rough and primal, and God forgive her soul, she loved it!

"Marc." His name rolled out of her mouth, "Marc, Marc, Marc," once she started, she couldn't stop, and it spurred him on; his hips thrashed wildly nailing her against the sofa and drawing loud moans from deep within her.

"Marc, oh God, Marc, fuck me...make me come for you."

He rolled and pinched her clit between his fingers and she exploded with a loud scream. Her eyes fluttered filling up with tears, but she didn't take her gaze away from his reflection.

He didn't even slow down to accommodate her orgasm which made it even more intense. She felt him swell inside her, then heard his guttural groan right when she felt his seed release deep inside her.

"Jesus...fucking...ahhh...hell!" he shuddered all over grasping her hips with iron fingers and emptying himself into her.

She must've blacked out for a few seconds, because her brain went blank for a long moment and she saw bright dots behind her eyelids when she finally closed them. He was on top of her, heavy and sweaty, cradling her back against his masculine body.

"Marc." She whispered weakly, and felt him stir, relax, then move more resolutely, collecting her into his arms. Somehow he managed to carry her and limp on still shivering legs until they both collapsed on the couch.

"That was marvelous." He whispered against her temple leaving tiny, tired kisses on her skin.

"Yes, Marc, it was." She smiled letting her eyes fall closed again, then sometime later –a few seconds, minutes, or hours maybe she didn't know- she whispered against his neck, "My name really is Jill; it's Jillian" and heard him huskily whisper, "I know that. I know who you are." And she was shrouded in blissful, tired oblivion in his arms.