Oh, but she's torn. She wants him inside her, wants the full force and fury of him pounding her senseless. But she wants to see his face when he hits that point of no return.

Just another few strokes, just another moment, no, she wants to watch.

Her grip at the base of him relaxes and her fist slides up his length, wet skin slipping over wet skin. She presses her tongue just so, catching him against her soft palate, mouth and hand moving in relentless counterpoint, not giving him any choice.