Charles' muscles were beyond any that she'd ever encountered. He had the hard, lean body of a man who's worked rigorously all his life. She was used to the high-born of England; men in fine jewels and velvets who had minimal muscle and had most of the hard work done by servants. Anne found herself curious from time to time how Charles would look dressed in finer trappings, but in truth she would not have changed anything about him. He was just as stubborn as she, and stronger than any man she'd ever met.

Still, feeling how his muscles rolled and the steady rhythm of his hips moved so fluidly against her own body, Anne couldn't help but be overwhelmed. Heat rushed straight to her head and made her face flush a bright red against her creamy complexion. Senseless indeed, already her head was swimming and hazy with lust. Her nails dug shallowly into his arms as he continued to drive his hips into hers, steadily slamming in and out of her over and over again. Anne's core began to grow tight, and it made her body arch further.

She kissed him back and even nipped playfully at his lower lip. Her walls began to quiver and quake, close to going over the edge once again.