Sweeney can't tell if he's disappointed or relieved when she lets up; realistically, it's a bit of both. Especially when her kissing gives way to sitting up, then sitting on. When she slides down, a gasp gets tangled on the back of his tongue, and he trembles beneath her. She makes every nerve electric, and his hands jump to her hips, needing some sense of anchoring, in both savoring and anticipating.

The position just feels so much deeper, and it's hard not to thrust up, just to be able to pull her back down. But Sweeney manages to remain still (mostly), trying to let her stay in the driver's seat as long as he can bear. Even so, his fingers dig into her the flesh of her ass more than he means to. He knows he's supposed to be looking at the sky, but his gaze is trapped on her; her blouse still neatly buttoned, veiling the point where they meet, tauntingly.