Nod

Rough? You can handle a little roughness if it means getting your hands, or - more likely - face all over those sculpturesque legs of hers. You nod, as much as her unyielding grasp permits; your gaze flitting between her imperious face and the way the curvature of her thighs shifts as she spreads them further, drawing you closer.

You count the pearls of sweat trailing her impressive musculature and your mouth has never felt drier. You want nothing more than to drink directly from her skin, and you lean in to do so.

Pain.

Blossoming instantly from the right side of your face. You find yourself staring at the women on the sofa, watching you with two different shades of amusement.

It takes a second for you to realize that Mrs. Anderson has just slapped you. You turn your head back towards her; you must just be the image of confusion, because a smirk threatens to crack her unimpressed expression.

“Eye. Contact." She says, spelling it out like you're a misbehaving dog. You do your best to stare into those cold, blue eyes and she nods almost imperciptively. "Good."

Out the corner of your eye, you see her move and suddenly you feel he leg resting on your shoulder; feel the weight, the heat against your cheek; her calf pressing against your back drawing you closer yet.

For a split second you dare look away to follow the lines of her legs to her still covered pussy..

And she instantly slaps again. This time, your head doesn't snap to the side; held in place against her thigh.

You quickly look back up. At her handsome face and those pityless eyes. This time your efforts aren't even acknowledged, but her stare is unfliching.