Her hands were tight around his wrists. Octavia needed her anchors, and this time, that was it. That little forward lean, helping her let her hips move how they wished.

She really wasn't looking for a slow build-up here, no. More like she was trying to set some kind of record for how quickly she could get herself off this way. No finesse, just want.

And her moans, unrestrained and a little guttural, said she was getting there.