[As if on cue, Rosalind's hips slow. She raises an eyebrow, looking at him in silence for a long few seconds, letting his words linger in the air between them. And then, without a single word of warning, she draws her hand back, slapping him soundly.

The resulting clap is utterly satisfying, and though it leaves her hand just as stinging and reddened as it had the first time she slapped him, it's worth it.]

No.

[It's as much a command as it is a scolding statement, and her hand darts back, threading in his hair as she tips his head back. Rosalind leans in, pressing their bodies together, very much aware of how she's throbbing around him even as her voice says cool and commanding.]

If you're doing as I say, Mr. Wolf, then you'll follow my rules as well. No patronizing nicknames, no good girl or sweetheart as thought I'm sixteen . . . you can hold my hips. You can use your mouth on me. But if I hear something out of you that's a command and not a question, if you start to grab and grope me, if you don't follow the rules . . . I'll stop again.

[She leans in, brushing their lips together in a gentle kiss, before nipping at his bottom lip.]

Understood, sweetness?