Certainly, when Isabella said that Percy knew what to do, she was not wrong.
If a single coherent thought could pierce the haze clouding her mind, she might question his remarkable expertise in bed. Where did he learn how to please a woman and how many years did he hone his skills?
Fortunately for Percy, Maggie's thoughts were currently no different from a swirling vortex, incapable of forming a single coherent sentence under his relentless assault.
"Breath, sweetling," Percy whispered from time to time when he felt her tightening around him. "Relax."
Maggie wanted to say that it was easier said than done, after all, Percy was not the one who had to take a smoldering, thick iron rod into the depth. But again, fortunately for Percy, Maggie was unable to complain. Yet.
Percy chuckled when he imagined what it would be like to sleep with Maggie years from now. His dear wife might have a lot more to say in bed.
But for now...