He smiles against her neck, whispering her name against her skin. Her movement is doing nothing to help allow his thoughts re-arrange themselves back into some sort of order, but he can be clear on one thing. If she is still wanting, he can joyfully still meet that need, one way or another.

Gently he pushes himself up and back, trailing reassuring kisses down her midline, over sternum and ribs and belly and down, questing fingers pushing into her to stroke and build that fire again. The smell, the taste of her is heady stuff, and he moans as he laps at her, firm and steady.