A startled moan escapes her as she hits the bed, but it's perfect. It's exactly what she needs out of him and her hands slide over his shoulders again, nails raking against his skin and she's leaving marks behind, not out of any desire to mark him or claim him, but simply because she can't help herself. Not now, not when he's doing everything right. Her back arches, rising to meet his thrusts and she hooks one leg over his hip, changing the angle so that he's rubbing against her at the same time, creating that perfect friction she's looking for. "Fuck," she moans again, holding onto him as tightly as she can.