Derek smiled against her skin. He still felt a thrill of triumph when she begged for him, her need superseding her upbringing, her brainwashing. Each time she asked him she was a little more his, a little more shameless.
"That's my girl," he murmured, approvingly. He shifted her weight, using gravity and leverage to keep her pinned against the bookcases as he slipped his hand down, fingers testing her readiness. "My little bitch. Wet and ready to be bred."