His hold around her throat tightened, and when she tried to gasp for more air, she couldn’t. He counted, forced himself to, then relaxed it, giving her a chance to breathe. She screamed again as he finally found his release. Declan only had enough thought and presence of mind, as he slumped forward, to make a mental note to stoke the fireplace, and bring Rosamund a blanket. Her body was limp beside his, but he could hear her heart, and knew she wasn’t dead. She wasn’t fucked to death, at least not yet. Soon. Very soon. But first... sleep.
