Malcolm wasn't thinking straight anymore. All he could think about was the heat of her skin, and the way she tasted under his lips, and the rush of heat to his cock. He was clearly turned on by this, and he didn't care to think about how fucked up that was. That he was getting off on treating her like a thing.
He smirked when she begged again, but the 'yes' was very welcomed. There it was, something resembling definite consent- he could really let go, she wanted this, as if that wasn't completely obvious anyway.
"Yeah, I thought so," he told her, his fingers continuing to move roughly against her, the fingers of his other hand digging into her skin. "At least you're fucking admitting it, now. No point in struggling, darling," he hissed, with a sort of aggression to his tone. "We both know you're a fucking useless slut, but at least you're good for something," he told her, feeling slightly disgusted at himself. She knew it wasn't real, didn't she? Of course she did. She had to.