He was cheeky. And wanton. And rather presumptuous, wasn't he? About the mood she would be in, about his ability to entice her. About a lot of things.
No, she didn't mind. Not really. But it was interesting, the possibilities that opened up if she decided she did mind, because then the question became what she was going to do about it.
Have him on his knees.
Mm, that did sound gratifying. But would it be for him? She liked the sound of it, a little game, but they had never discussed games, or boundaries, and games were no fun unless both parties enjoyed them. But he had said to her, many times, I'll do anything you want. He seemed to trust that he would be safe with her, and she trusted him to tell her if something made him uncomfortable. She thought it would be worth the risk.
"Not that you came to my home," she told him. "I've told you before that you're welcome here. But you are presumptuous, aren't you? Draping yourself over my bed like a wanton little whore, expecting me to be ready at your whim. I think you should remove your hand from your balls and remove yourself from my furniture. Come here."
She watched him, expression stern, but searching for his reaction, for any sign of discomfort.