[She wants to wipe that possessive look out of his eyes, slap his hands away and remind him in no uncertain terms that she is in charge here. At the same time, though, there's something arousing about the fire in his look, his obvious frustration with the situation - and, yes, his refusal to submit. Submission would, she has to admit, be dull. Let him fight her all he will - it will only make victory sweeter.]

[With that in mind, not to mention the increasing build of pleasure as she fucks him, she dosn't force his hands away, even as they creep higher up her thighs, over hard, flexing muscle, to her ass. She leans in closer, letting out a low little sound at the change in angle, and meets his eyes with hers, her face scant inches from his. Her face is flushed, her eyes bright, and she hopes he can see the triumph in her face.]

No matter what happens, carry this with you, and remember it next time you are inclined to mockery: I did not try very hard to get you here. I need not. For all your silver-tongued certainty, you are weak.

[She drives herself down onto him with even greater intensity, a couple of times, groaning at the depth, the rawness, the near-pain of it. Then she slows a little, her face still close to his, and her gaze drills into him.]

Say it. Say you are beaten.

[And, yes, that means she's taking her hand off his mouth. Think before you speak, though, Kaph. She's still got a pretty good grip on your hair - not to mention your cock.]