At least, no longer than he chooses to, his hand curving under her ass, bringing the dress of her skirt against his thigh. No rush, no hurry, no waiting. There's a definite appeal in a woman who doesn't play coy games, or wait to be asked, and he'll return the courtesy in kind. With her settled close, and the wall solid at his back, he settles in to learn her, hand returning to her breast, eyes heavy, half-lidded and watching her face as this time, knowing the shape of her, he moves from rubbing over her nipple to a light pinch, rolling fabric and flesh gently, slowly between finger and thumb.