The sound he made against her skin might have been a laugh or a groan. Bucking his hips against her hand, he slipped his mouth around one nipple, his teeth closing on it in a grip too soft to be called a bite, tonguing at the skin as he sucked. Shifting his grip on her thighs so he could support her one-handed, he brought his other hand up into her hair, pulling her head back just enough to kiss his way back up her throat.

"So much for saving your wrist," he commented in her ear, nipping at the lobe of it, and sighed hoarsely, shifting his hips again. "Fuck. You're good."