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Delaney’s back arched rigidly off the bed, her nails biting into Claire’s shoulders. Her chest heaved in shallow, ragged bursts, her ribs straining against her skin while a deep flush spread across her collarbones and up her neck.

Claire waited out the last faint quiver of Delaney’s thighs before she slowly pulled her fingers free. She wiped her fingers absently against the sheets, her attention never leaving Delaney’s face.

Delaney lay completely undone against the pillows, stripped of the watchful, camera-ready front she carried everywhere else. Her dark hair was tangled across the pillowcase, sticking in damp strands to her forehead and cheek.

Claire shifted her weight onto one elbow, her hand hovering before she lightly cupped Delaney’s jaw, kissing her slowly.

“You’re so beautiful,” Claire murmured, her voice low and quiet in the stillness of the room.

“God,” Delaney breathed, letting out a long, shuddering sigh. Her eyes fluttered open, a slow, triumphant smile curving her lips. “Don’t go anywhere.”

She caught Claire by the shoulders with a sudden burst of energy, rolling them over and pressing Claire into the pillows.

“Stay right there,” Delaney whispered, and slid downward, her hair dragging across Claire’s stomach.

Claire tried to catch her breath. Delaney didn’t give her the chance. Her mouth moved lower, along the inside of Claire’s hip, unhurried, and every muscle in Claire’s body drew tight waiting for it. Delaney kissed the crease of her thigh, then the other side. Warm breath, the barest brush of her lips, and nothing else. Claire’s knees fell open anyway.

“Delaney.”

A low sound vibrated against her skin, almost a laugh. Delaney wasn’t rushing. She had Claire pinned right where she wanted her, and after a week of taking Claire’s orders in the round pen, she was clearly going to make the most of it. She knew exactly what she was doing.

Then her tongue found Claire in one slow drag from bottom to top, and Claire’s hips lifted off the mattress before she could stop them. There was nothing tentative about Delaney’s mouth. She found the exact spot that made Claire’s breath catch and stayed there, working her over with a focus that left nowhere to hide.

Claire fisted the sheets in both hands, her knuckles aching as a raw sound tore out of her throat. So many years on her own hadn’t prepared her for this, for the way Delaney paid attention to every twitch of her thighs and adjusted the pressure to match.

Delaney slid two fingers inside her without breaking the rhythm of her tongue, curling them up until Claire’s back arched off the bed. Between her mouth and her hand, she stripped away the last of Claire’s control, taking her apart piece by piece.

Claire reached down blindly, tangling one rough hand in Delaney’s dark hair, not to pull her off, just to hold on. Heat pooled low in her belly, her calf muscles straining as her hips rocked.

“Delaney,” Claire gasped, thrashing her head back against the pillow.

The orgasm crashed through her. Claire cried out, her thighs clamping around Delaney’s shoulders as the pleasure ripped through her. The spasms hit in rapid succession, blinding and intense. She squeezed her eyes shut, entirely at the mercy of the woman kneeling between her legs.

When the last of it ebbed, Claire lay spent. Delaney crawled up her body, dragging her bare skin along Claire’s. Delaney’s lips were slick and swollen, and she looked down at Claire with a fierce, possessive satisfaction.

They lay there for a long time, tangled together, their breathing slowly returning to normal. The room was quiet, the only sound the faint rustle of the quilt as Claire reached down to pull it over them. Her fingers traced lazy patterns on Delaney’s back, her touch gentle now, almost reverent. Delaney’s head rested on her shoulder, dark waves spilling over Claire’s chest.

Claire’s hand stilled.

Delaney lifted her head. “Don’t,” she said quietly. “Don’t start thinking about tomorrow yet.”

Claire’s thumb brushed the curve of Delaney’s hip. “How did you know?”

“Because I know you’re thinking about what this means, with the movie, with us living together. Logistics. And I just want to enjoy this night with you.”

The words landed low in Claire’s chest. She pulled Delaney up until they were face to face again, then rolled so Delaney straddled her once more. This time the movement was slower, deliberate. Delaney rocked down, the slide of skin on skin drawing a low sound from Claire’s throat. She gripped Delaney’s hips, guiding the rhythm, feeling every small shift of the younger woman’s thighs.

Delaney leaned down, their foreheads touching. Claire lifted to meet her, the pressure building again, lower and steadier than before. They moved together, breath mingling, the grind steady and deep.

Claire’s hands stayed firm on Delaney’s hips.

“God, you feel good,” Delaney whispered against her mouth, the words breaking into short pants.

Claire answered with a low groan, pushing up to meet each downward press. “Don’t stop.”

The rhythm tightened, urgent now, their bodies locked in the same desperate pace. Delaney’s fingers dug into Claire’s shoulders, nails biting into skin. Claire’s grip on Delaney’s hips tightened in return, her own breath coming in sharp, uneven pulls.

“Claire—” Delaney gasped, her voice raw. “I’m⁠—”