Is it?

Somehow, Derrica takes a moment to give the offer serious thought. There is real consideration of the idea of realigning the trajectory of their evening to what she'd been intending, though the roll of her hips doesn't falter as she considers him. Sweat prickles across her skin, gathers at the nape of her neck. His beard is not so course under her fingers. Her thumb finds the edge of his mouth, the smile curved there.

Yes, he would stop if she asked. That matters, along with all the rest of what's been exchanged this evening.

"Much sooner," she promises first, firm over the words. Not an answer to the question, but a statement of intent. Derrica draws in a very deep breath before continuing, "I don't want you to stop."

She can feel the beat of his pulse in his throat, at the very tips of where her fingers have come to rest. There's a tremor working through her body, in her thighs and her arms, everything supporting her weight, but her voice is almost steady when she tells him, "Give me more," in soft, low tones.