She's not in the mood to argue, verbally at least, and turn this into a contest of wills. There are better things to do with the competetive nature she usually hides, but the euphoria keeps trying to bowl her over. Her hips rock up more forcefully, testing to see how much more she can let go, and lifts her chin to capture his mouth with hers.

His tongue, poor thing, will end up a temporary prisoner of her teeth. Once or twice.