He moved his hand down, taking himself and stroking himself in front of her. Still out of reach, but only by scant moments of space. And then he moved, finally offering on the head to her.He continued to move his hand, a forceful grip that was as much pleasure as pain.<br/><br/><em>Wet me.</em><br/><br/>With that command he held himself to her, only the head available to her touch, to her taste. Engorged and full, right to her should she take the opportunity. His head returned to her body, tongue flicking over her clit it rapid strokes with no teeth, no lips to match. His thumb moved and was replaced with a finger, and then two. Again he pushed inside her, started a steady motion. He was loosening her body, the intention clear. He was going to take her, going to force himself upon her, but he would need her ready first.