He loved her moans. Which might be told by his hand squeezing hers with each and every one.

He shifted himself a little—not interrupting mouth or fingers at all—so he could put his bicep against the muscle of her thigh; and pressed in, slowly, altering the angle, raising her just so…

And then she spoke words, that made him jolt a little against the mattress with his own hard knotted desire. But didn't stop anything he was doing, within (slipping another finger beside the first) or (loving her) without; not even to speak or smile. Keep it… build to… yes…

But he pressed his palm to hers and squeezed her hand firmly, tightly; holding close there so elsewhere she might let go.