“We don’t have long,” she whispered.
“Then stop talking,” he replied before taking her mouth again, his tongue delving between her opened lips as his hands reached around her, grasping her backside and pulling her sharply against him, his hardness pressing into the space next to her hipbone, forcing her head back, hitting the wall as she gasped, her knees shaking, trembling beneath her as she struggled in vain to support her own weight. The trembling was in her whole body now, her hands shaking as they traced a path down his face and to his shoulders, latching behind his neck, using his body as leverage, knowing that it and the wall were holding her up as her legs completely gave way beneath her, her skirt up, around her waist, her panties down at her ankles.
And then her ankles were gone, a small pool of pale pink silk resting on the floor where they had been, locked now behind his back as he pushed her into the wall, his hands on her hips and his hips pushing her harder into the smooth surface, the only things keeping her from sliding down and falling into a puddle at his feet and she bit her lip to keep from crying out as he entered her, the sensation foreign and familiar as it always was, no matter how long it had been since the last time, hard, and thick and thrusting and overwhelming her senses until her entire body seemed focused on that point, the place where their bodies met and glided against the other, where they pushed rapidly against one another in an ever-increasing tempo, straining towards that moment when they would slide, boneless, to the floor together, arms and legs and breath intertwined, sex and soul and heartbeats commingled, panting and gasping and voices mingled, words of affection and intimacy and perhaps even love lost in the deep breaths and contented sighs.
And then it happened. And there was nothing left of Harry, nothing left of Katie, they were simply man and woman, two halves of a whole and lost in the moment.
And then the moment was over.