Well, he cares if she dies, he cares even if she so much as gets a bruise or a dislocated shoulder. So he clings to every shred of calm and self-control he still has, which is admittedly running thin now that she's arching her body and rubbing herself up against him.

He should stop, he realizes. His heart is starting to beat too fast to be safe, and with how frustrated he was already, he can tell that he's so close to having an orgasm himself. Which, as great as it might sound, to him it's nothing short of terrifying, because he has absolutely no idea what happens then, how his body would even handle or react to something like that.

Just a little longer, though-- mostly for her sake, in hopes that she won't last much longer herself. His hips start to move a little faster, the length of his hard cock rubbing right along her slit, every little thrust coming with a paced yet audible breath, not even as remotely calm as it should be right now.