He puts a knee on the bed. ‘Hands and knees.’ I raise an eyebrow. ‘Make me.’ ‘Seriously, you don’t want me to make you,’ he says, climbing up. I sigh with happiness as he crawls between my legs. ‘Over you go,’ he says, wedging an arm around me and flipping me unceremoniously onto my stomach before giving me a resounding slap on the arse. ‘Ouch,’ I complain. ‘That would be more convincing if you weren’t wiggling that little arse of yours straight at my dick,’ he says. Was I? Oops.
