Why? The cookie was asking me why? Something flared in my eyes - annoyance, arrogance, hunger - and I leaned forward, one eyebrow arching. That thing I could never do normally, one thin line of red sliding up in vague anger, yet another sign of my lovely transformation.

"Because you should," I answered after a moment, pushing forward, closer to him, unafraid and powerful. He should beg. He'd put me through hell, the piece of shit human, and he should beg.

With a snarl and a movement made of fluid grace I couldn't even begin to touch normally, with a strength that was beyond my regular bounds, I flipped him over onto the bed so he was flat on his back, straddling him. Leaning over him, hair tumbling down around us, I raked my nails lightly down his chest, grinding my hips into his. "Beg," I ordered again. "Tell me how much you want this. Tell me how much you want me. You can only connect when it's fucking, when you can thrust into me and make me feel you, so tell me." Another sharp roll of my hips on him. "This is all I'm good for, isn't it?" My teeth flashed in a feral grin. "So why don't we make sure you enjoy it."