*“What are you wearing right now.”*
You don’t even bother to add the correct punctuation, and that assertion of your dominance alone makes my lips press together in a mix of frustration and arousal.
You don’t want to hear that I’m curled up on the couch in a big t-shirt from an ex while I finish up some work emails. No, not at all. The obscure logo on the front of the oversized treasure does nothing for you. But you don’t want me to lie to you either. No ‘Oh nothing, just lying around in my thong’. What you want to hear about hides in the details— doesn’t it?
I’m sure that you want to hear about the way my hair is tied up. A few fringe pieces in my face, framing my feminine features and full lips. The rest is collected high on the top of my head, tied into a ponytail that holds the dark curls from the day in a lackadaisical bunch. You want me to tell you how badly I want those curls to wrap around your thick digits while you pull my head in the direction you choose. Up. Down. Back. Whatever you want. I’ll behave. For now.