the next she was soaring on the crest of a wave of pleasure, her body dissolving in liquid tremors, sheathing his scalding, marble-hard manroot as it burst, spurting his male essence up inside her like molten sparks of fire.
When Edward Plantagenet arrived at Scone, he removed the Stone of Destiny on which every Celtic king had been crowned and sent it to Westminster Abbey in London.
By becoming one with the windswept slate sky and the roiling pewter sea, whose turbulence was infinitely greater than his own, he achieved a measure of calm within.
Jane realized this was the way it was supposed to be between a man and a woman. When they shared their bodies, the male grew strong and powerful, while the female grew weak with love.
This was a bad time, a wretched and devastating time that must somehow be gotten through, not necessarily with grace and dignity, but any way she could.