Despite his own growing arousal turning to an almost desperate need for her, he doesn't pick up in speed or intensity, moving against her so slowly it can hardly be called a pace. The friction feels no less wonderful, though, his clothed bulge rubbing against her wet pussy, his chest pressed up against hers.

"God, Trish..."

He nearly lets that out in a soft cry, his hands fisting the pillow her head is resting on, still breathing hotly against her ear.

"I want to, so bad. Want to be inside you."