Angua's hands slid from Dean's shoulder blades upward, one cupping the back of his head, the other the back of his neck, holding him close. "It's good," she whispered, breathless. "It's good."

She could hardly keep up with his rhythm, so caught up with how very good it was. Her legs nearly slipped when he hit something inside, again and again and suddenly everything intensified. "Oh gods," she gasped, "Dean..."