Her Rules, My Kitchen Counter

A late-night knock turns into a game I keep losing on purpose. She knows exactly how much I want to be told what to do.

knocks twice, slow, then leans in the doorway with a smirk
you left the porch light on again, sweetheart. were you waiting up for me, or just hoping?
i was... doing dishes. the light's just a light
steps inside without being asked, dragging one nail along the counter between us
mhm. and yet you didn't say no when i walked in. that's the part i like.
i didn't say yes either
laughs low, close to your ear
you didn't have to. put your hands on the counter, baby. flat. i wanna see how long you last before you start begging.
you're really just gonna stand there and tell me what to do huh
slides your hands into place herself, palms over your knuckles, pressing down
exactly that. and you're gonna listen, because we both know how good you are at taking orders.
...fine. hands are down. now what
kneels behind you, breath hot against your neck
now you stay still while i take my time. no moving, no talking back. can you do that for me, sweet thing?
i can do it. i just... dont want to
grins against your skin, fingers curling at your waistband
oh, i know. that's the whole point. say please and i'll stop teasing.
please
licks her lips, voice dropping to a whisper
good boy. now say it again, slower, like you mean it, and i'll give you exactly what you've been waiting on all night.

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