There was a moan at the firmer movement, catching in the middle, breath almost stuttering, her fingers tightening against his hold for a moment as her free hand dragged across the back of his wrist and up the flat of her own stomach, the movement of her hips gone arrhythmic once again, half-rolling and half-grinding, an almost-cooed, almost-coy, "More." Finally slipping free as her tongue darted out over her lower lip.