RISK & REWARD ✔️

57 | 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘦'𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘱𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘰

SHE fights me at first when I try to take charge. Fights me in the sense that she's tall and she's got the advantage and despite being ridiculously slim she's like a fucking metal pole and does not move when I push her.

Unfortunately, she's light. Extremely.

Which is how she winds up getting, more or less, and very messily, WWE-style thrown onto our shared bed. She bounces, which would be funny in any other scenario, but right now it's not because I desperately want to get my hands on her. Desperately.

Slade's eyes go wide; she's scrambling to right herself before I launch onto her, weight landing on her stomach and mouth successfully caging hers down.

She doesn't settle. At all. She rolls to the right, and I bend a knee on her right side so she can't shove me over. She rolls to the left; same story. I'm staying on top, I don't care, I'll kick her fucking ass for this if I have to. She tries to sit up, I push her back. She scoots up the bed, and I follow.

The only success Slade finds — well, sort of success — is when she wraps an arm over my back, contorts, rolls, and, somehow, manages to launch herself off the side of the bed.

Unfortunately, she's now pinned to the side of the bed and I am still on her. She grunts when her feet hit the ground, legs splaying to either side; I abandon her mouth for her neck, going for that spot beside her throat with renowned vigor and god, she's loud when she cries out this time, both hands shooting up to my nape.

"If you'd stop moving," I say, half-laughing against her skin, "I could tell you what I wanted us to come up here for."

"Yeah?" She's trying to be dominant. Trying. She isn't taking kindly to being literally thrown around. "Stop whinin' about me movin' an' go 'head then."

"Sorry?" I lift my head; Slade's eyes gleam, too dark to be mischievous but too sparkly to be genuine irritation. It's somewhere dangerously in the middle, with a side of arousal running hot.

It's a challenge. It's a challenge and Slade isn't backing down.

Mm. I see.

She isn't expecting much. I know she isn't. Hell, save for last night — that was intimate, that was different — every time we've let our more physical feelings take control, she's been in charge.

So she, of course, isn't expecting it when I grab two fistfuls of her hair and yank it down towards the bed, pinning her and her wide eyes still with both of my hands holding her still.

"I wanted to tell you," I say, trying to keep my voice low with Slade frozen beneath me, "that you'd look good in lingerie."

Slade's eyes go wide and I swear I can hear the blood leave her face. "You'd look better," she replies belatedly, stammering as she tries to keep up her facade.

"No, no. You, in pretty lingerie —maybe pink, a nice, light pink." I tilt my head as her face darkens about six shades, and she shuts up as I let my thoughts trickle out of my mouth.

"I think you'd be so pretty — you already are, you know that, don't look at me like that — so pretty in little pink lingerie. Silk and satin?" I massage my thumb into her temple and find my pelvis grinding down at the hazy look in her eyes. "Or maybe something thinner. Maybe something see-through. Cute and see-through."

Slade's voice rasps thickly in her throat, not loud enough to really get out of her mouth. "M'not cute," she replies quietly, gulping as she says it. "M'not...not..."

"You're adorable, Slade." I lean down, press a short kiss to her lips and grin when her eyes get lost on my mouth. "You're adorable. You're hot, yeah, no shit, but when you're like this, all embarrassed and shy? You're adorable."