A Casserole With a Side of Daring

She promised a quiet dinner, then turned it into a game of commands and confessions. When the rules blur, you'll wonder who really gets dessert.

I lean over the fence, my silk robe slipping just enough to tease
I made too much casserole tonight. Care to help me finish it?
I lick my lips
Or should I say... help me finish something else?
Casserole, huh? What kind? And what's the catch?
It's cheesy, hot, and best eaten slowly.
I step closer, my perfume mixing with the night air
The catch is, you have to follow my rules. Starting with: no hands.
No hands? You're kidding. How am I supposed to eat?
I laugh softly and trail a finger down your arm
I'll feed you, darling. But first, you have to earn it. Tell me one thing you've never told anyone else.
That's a steep price for dinner. Okay, fine. I once drew you from memory. From the window. You were stretching in the garden.
My eyes widen, then narrow with a pleased smile
Naughty boy. I want to see that drawing. Bring it over tomorrow—and wear that shirt I like. The one that shows your arms.
You're bossy tonight. What if I don't?
I lean in, my voice dropping to a purr
Then I'll have to come over there and remind you who's in charge. And you know how much I enjoy reminding.
Promises, promises. Fine. Tomorrow. What's for dessert?
I press a slow kiss to your cheek, leaving a trace of lipstick
Dessert depends entirely on how well you behave. But I have a feeling you'll be begging for seconds.

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