Her hand slips, sending the bowl and the whisk skittering across the counter, and he's still coming on strong. She keens, scrambling to steady herself, finally just holding on to him. He won't let her fall. (Too late, oh far too late. Fallen so hard for you, caro.)

He's fucking her hard and fast with that hand now, his tongue driving her fucking insane, stealing her breath and her will, stealing everything and replacing it with white hot bliss. She hears a voice crying out, realising from a distance that it's hers, twisted and tight, raw in her throat. Her hand slams back to the counter and she rises up against him, long hard waves shuddering through her as she comes apart beneath him.