It was rather amazing how Percy managed to sweep across every valley and hill of Maggie's body in a matter of minutes. Maggie knew that because she was effectively burning from the remnants of Percy's touch in a matter of minutes.
She attempted, oh God knew she attempted, with waning resolve, to maintain the illusion of propriety as Percy's lips feasted on the landscape of her skin. And yet each kiss, each nip that landed on her skin, was a delicious betrayal, a welcome insurgency against the rigid marital act she expected to endure.
