You laughed. One of those laughs he hated to love - loose, cheeky, full of challenge. Will was already lying with you, kind of on top, his hair messy for what they had already done and his eyes dark, loaded with unrestrained will.

“What’s the fun?” He asked, dragging his voice, his fingers sliding down his bare thigh.

You turned your face, debauched.

“It’s just that you think you’re in charge of everything.”

Will blinked slowly. Dangerous.

“Baby,” he murmured, slowly moving his hand down the curve of his waist, “I don’t find anything.”

And then, without warning, with the control that only he knew how to use, he gave a dry, firm, slapped slap on her ass. The big, warm hand, the sound echoing through the room.

You gasped, surprise.

He smiled - that crooked, damned, deliciously arrogant smile.

“I’m sure.”

You got up a little, your gaze between indignant and excited. “You...?”

“You like it,” he said, with no room for discussion, pulling you back to his lap. “Make that little face, but the whole body begs for me.”

“Arrogant,” you growled, trying to contain the chill.

“You love, it’s no use denying it.”

Another slap. This time slower. More... loaded with intention.

You moaned low, your eyes almost closing.

Will smiled against his skin, his mouth brushing his neck, his teeth threatening.

“Every inch of yours... knows it’s mine.”