By the time my Sir is standing in front of me, my restless energy is sky high. I've prowled the house today, unable to settle into tasks. Unable to focus on assignments or chores. We were supposed to spend today together, but he was called away. I try to be understanding, but the solitude has made me grumpy.
Now my Sir is home. And he's hungry for me.
But my inner brat has taken hold of me like I've been possessed.
And I'm feeling wicked.
I want to play.
My energy feels like a living creature inside me. Licking along my limbs in an effort to find a way to escape.
I look over my handsome Sir, watching his eyes rake over me. He never misses a detail, taking in everything from my soft, long dark hair to my pretty pink toe nails. His eyes linger over the swell of my breasts, and my nipples pebble under the attention. His eyes slow again at the curve of my hips. I know he's imagining holding them. My short, loose dress swishes quietly against my thighs as I shift from one foot to the other. The air is cool on my skin, bare under my dress as Sir's rules require.
My Sir's gaze turns demanding, and it makes me need to drop my eyes quickly, looking toward my feet. I wiggle my toes before looking back up at Sir. He crooks his finger at me.
"Come here and strip," he says.
A million thoughts race through my head in the span of a heartbeat. The tone of his voice sends an electric pulse down my spine, and moisture gathers on my thighs. Sir wants me. I always want him.
But everything in me says to challenge him.
To test.
To see how far I can push.
To play.
Do I obey?
Do I not?
I think not.
The corner of my mouth turns up in a small smirk.
Sir's going to work for it tonight.
My punishment to him for me being lonely and restless all day.
He watches me closely, and his features harden slightly as he reads my hesitation.
My expression turns cheeky and I give my head the tiniest of shakes.
No.
Sir raises his eyebrows. He tells me again, "come here and strip."
I don't say a word. My chin raises a notch. Blatant defiance in my eyes. My smirk widens, and I shake my head again.
No.
"Don't make me come there and get you," he rumbles at me.
But instead of fear pulsing through me, it's excitement.
Come and get me, Sir, I think to myself, I want you to come and get me.
He's already taking a step toward me, but he freezes when I take a half step back.
"Don't move," he says.
Sir's face becomes predatory the moment he sees me poise to bolt.
And I wonder what he feels.
Disbelief?
Frustration?