He draws a feather-light path along her jaw with his tongue, from her chin towards her ear before dipping it to the dark patch of skin.

"Níos mó." The pattern of his hand's touch becomes continuous.

"Go crua." He pushes his thumb firmly in the center. "Hard."

Sweeney's hand curls around the back of her neck so he can dig with the full grip of it as he leans in with a low growl.

"Níos crua." He swallows. "Harder."