When his fingers find that practiced movements, Alex whimpers, and it turns into a moan as the back of her thighs tremble against his own. "Richard," his name is a prayer, sacred almost in the very pure note of desire that it brings with it and then continues to repeat. "Richard. I love you. Oh god."

And then Alex came on him in his lap, and she just let out little whimpers of pleasure as she tried to get her gasping breath back and tried to quiet the racing of her pulse.