Foreman lessened the intensity almost as soon as he heard Amber's scream, leaving his finger inside of her, but lifting his head enough to get some sense of how she might look, if only he could see her clearly. He could feel the tremors jerking through her muscles, the twisting, tensing clench of her vagina around his finger. Panting, he tried to see more, staying close enough that she could rub against him for as long as she needed. It lasted, longer than he'd thought, and even through his own rushing feelings Foreman couldn't help feeling a deep, satisfying pride that he'd done that, that he'd left her helpless. It was overwhelmed a second later by his realization: helpless. Amber. She'd been willing to let go that much, let him take her that far.

God. He didn't have to see her to know how beautiful she was--messy and sweaty and shaking, yeah, and his, all his. Foreman ran his forearm across his face, wiping himself off as best he could, and then he moved up the bed. He couldn't have stopped himself. It wasn't even because he wanted, needed to come--for the instant, his body was his last concern. He wanted to cover Amber, hold her, share his warmth, and keep this feeling going for as long as possible. He let his weight settle on her, his cock trapped between them, and hugged her as well as he could, kissing her lightly where he could reach. He gulped back his breath, trying not to pant too heavily right in her face, and finally he buried his face in the crook of her neck, so that he could force his breathing to calm down without making Amber feel like she had to do something for him--at this point, Foreman wouldn't ask for more if she couldn't take it; he'd bring himself off with all the satisfaction in the world, because he'd already been with her in the moment that mattered.