Page 103 of The Sadist and the Brat

And with a scream, she obeyed.

* * * *

They were curled up on the sofa, watching a movie, when for the third time in the last hour, Jack heard a sound like air being let out of a squeaky balloon.

He bit his lip to hold in the laugh, grunting when Sadie poked him in the ribs.

“Don’t you dare laugh,” she warned him, though he could hear the laugh lurking under the grumpy demand. “This is your fault.”

“How is it my fault?” he wondered and earned himself another poke.

“I told you anal makes me gassy, but did you believe me? Noooo.”

“I believed you,” he corrected, and snagged her hand so she couldn’t poke him again. “I just didn’t care.”

“God, you’re an asshole.”

“Excuse me?” he said, twisting to look down at her. She was dressed in a pair of paint flecked yoga pants—her most comfortable, he’d been informed—and one of his sweatshirts. Her hair was down, still damp from the morning shower they’d shared, and her face, bare of makeup, wore a smugly impish smile.

“You’re not excused,” she said with a haughty sniff, and turned red when the balloon let out another burst of air. “Dammit, it’s not funny.”

“I beg to differ,” he said, not even bothering to hold back his laughter. “I think it’s hilarious.”

“You would,” she accused, and squealed when he plucked her off the sofa and planted her on his lap. “Hey!”

“Hey, yourself,” he said, and before she could gather herself enough to struggle, dragged her hands behind her back. “Now, what was that you said?”

“That you’re an asshole?” she answered with a smirk, then jerked. “Don’t!”

“Don’t what?” he asked innocently and danced his fingertips over her ribs again. “Don’t do this?”

“Oh, I hate being tickled,” she wailed, twisting on his lap. But he anticipated the move and countered it to dig his fingers into her armpit. “Jack! I’m going to pee on you!”

“We haven’t negotiated water sports,” he informed her, laughing almost as hard as she was. “But I’m game if you are.”

“Stop, you sadist,” she gasped. “Red!”

He dropped his hands to her waist, and since she’d nearly managed to twist herself off, hoisted her back onto his lap.

“You don’t safeword when I grab your pussy with a vampire glove,” he marveled, “but a little tickle does it?”

“Ihatebeing tickled,” she informed him breathlessly.

“That should probably go on your limits list,” he informed her soberly.

“Believe me, I’m making that change as soon as I get home,” she informed him, her hair curtaining her face as she scowled down at him. “Stop grinning at me, you goof.”

“I’m not allowed to grin?”

“It’s unnerving. I still expect to see Resting Dick Face staring back at me.”

“You’ll get used to it.” He lifted a hand to toy with the ends of her hair. “Your eyes are still a little puffy from crying.”

She sniffed, her mouth twisting into a sneer that was completely belied by the happy twinkle in her eye. “You like that, don’t you, you pervert?”

“Hell, yes,” he said, and nearly fell over laughing when she farted again.

She slid off his lap and skipped away, shouting, “Asshole!” over her shoulder, and a moment later he heard the bathroom door slam behind her.

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