Enough. Her voice was firm, her hand tight in his hair. George sat back on his heels and looked up at her, licking the taste of her off lips that insisted on curving, just at the corners, just a little...
She wanted him to be bad, to be disciplined, to be punished. He intended to enjoy every second of whatever game she wanted to play. He'd led more times than not, the first time out of desperation, the second out of sheer desire, and he was delighted to find that her firm directions, the tugs in his hair... He was achingly hard. Breathless and flushed.
George licked his lips again. "I could stand," he murmured, trying for a respectful tone. He shifted minutely and bit his lip at the sensation of skin on skin between his thighs. "Or crawl. Whatever pleases you."