Just now, the promise of being sore later, of feeling this even after the moment has passed, is almost part of the appeal. Almost because Natasha isn't thinking about how she'll feel hours from now. As she rides him, she can barely think of anything at all. It's all immediately—this instant, and the quickly collapsing space between now and the near future point of climax.

Everything is building toward that, the tension growing inside her with every motion.