“Your name?” She spits, leaning forward as the mirth gets lost for a wild expression of carnal anger. “Is whatever I fucking say it is. Now start stripping— or I will take care of that on my own.” It’s a threat, a very real one.
A shiver runs cold-then-hot down his spine, and he instinctively backs up from the predator facing him. Should he poke the beast? He’s dug quite a grave for himself already. Goddamned if it wasn’t hot as hell though.
“I’m, uh, open to suggestions.”
He clenches his teeth to fight the cheeky smile that threatens to spring to his face at the command to strip. He just stands there silently, waiting and biting his lip. He’s morbidly curious to see what she’ll do if he disobeys her. He’s got a couple ideas, though. He mentally goes over his will.