Fuck, that's delicious. All the blood in the lower half of him is screaming to tag in, but every coil around his fingers is so much more acute than it would be around his prick. He delights in every ripple, the way her body is caught between begging and taking. His arm is stone against her protest and balance; she can use it for whatever she likes, but it isn't going anywhere.

Sweeney's more than happy to offer her more depth, however, and when he shifts to reposition for it, he takes the moment to release her hair, his hand jumping immediately to her throat instead. He catches her under her jaw and forces it up, keeping her head pressed to his shoulder as he grits his teeth and gets back to work.