Chapter Text
As it turned out, Elizabeth Bennet had come to hate that she agreed to live in the Netherfield mansion for the duration of filming. What she thought would be a good month to write whatever she wanted without needing to pay rent for her dingy apartment (the apartment that Charlotte was graciously subletting) has turned into a living nightmare. And she’s only been at the house for a week and a half. At this point she considered how expensive it would be to break the contract and to just leave–it’s not like they needed her to film. Lydia was who they cared about. Lydia didn’t even care about Elizabeth’s opinion on her future partners.
Lydia Bennet, the shining youngest Bennet sister, was the star of some new reality dating show concept that involved Lydia living, with her closest friends–who were all too too busy to be on TV, so her sisters stepped in, in the Netherfield mansion along with six, count ‘em six, other families. The goal was for there to be a wedding at the end, maybe? Except Elizabeth got confused when the producer started explaining some convoluted plan that would confuse even her mother (the illustrious queen of convoluted plans).
The worst part wasn’t living with a bunch of strangers and a camera crew. Or the cameras in every public location in the house. The worst part is that Lydia had set her eyes on some guy named Charles Bingley. Because of his sparkling attitude? Not quite. No, she was head-in-heels in love with his wallet, not to mention his job. The guy was a model and was recognizable on sight. And maybe if he was one of those stereotypical New York guys–he would have been a puddle in Lydia’s hands.
Instead, he was charming and kind and 100% into a different Bennet sister. Jane. The oldest Bennet sister, to be precise.
Elizabeth had a headache that no amount of ibuprofen could solve trying to hide this fact from everybody. Lydia. The producers. The camera people. The other housemates. In fact, there was only one other person who knew because Lizzie couldn’t say a word to Charlotte because of an air-tight NDA.
That person was William Darcy. AKA–the cause of all her other headaches.
Super Hot (Lydia’s words, though Elizabeth would not contest them). Actor and part time model. And all around piece of shit. Who happened to be Charles’s best friend. Which means, with their little “Jane” secret–Elizabeth found herself spending more time with Darcy, who went by his last name (sign of an asshole if you asked her). The dude should be off making another several million dollars shooting some movie with Florence Pugh or someone and instead, he was “taking a break” and “reconnecting with his best friend” and getting on Elizabeth’s nerves.
He had opinions about everything. Usually opinions that directly contradicted her own. Which, frustrating, but workable. She was used to people disagreeing with her. However–what she did not appreciate was that after the first night at the house, during the mixer, she overheard him tell Charles that he thought she was “perfectly tolerable” but “only marginally less annoying than Lydia.”
The first part–whatever. Elizabeth wasn’t here to snag a boyfriend. But only marginally less annoying than Lydia? Lydia whose life goal was to be famous by any means necessary? Elizabeth was a journalist for god’s sake. And not even a well-known one! By default, she was extremely less annoying than Lydia!
Which was why, with two hours before dinner, she was already in her bedroom to prepare for dinner. The rest of her sisters were in the common room with everybody else watching a movie that Lizzie saw with Charlotte last year. She made one joke about the actor’s inability to look away from the camera when he spoke and what did Darcy do? Give his opinion. Even though nobody asked. She was so annoyed that she stalked off to her room, pretending that she got an email from her boss for a last-minute assignment.
Nobody knew that she wasn’t really working on assigned work right now. Nobody, except Jane–who was too busy playing footsie with Charles under a blanket–and Darcy, who found out in one of their arguments this week. He thought she was using Lydia as an inside pass to write about all the people in the house, forgetting that she signed the same NDA he did. She quickly set him straight and the shock on his face was almost enough to satisfy her for a whole day. Until the next argument came and she lost.
“Doesn’t anybody in this house know how to fucking knock?” she yelled, whipping around to the door. Yesterday one of the camera assistants “got lost” and walked in on her changing for bed. Now she had to shimmy her nightstand in front of the door whenever she changed or took a shower. Again: more trouble than this whole show was worth.
The flame in her chest tamed into a less passionate burn as she spotted none other than William Darcy standing in her door frame with a bored expression on his face. “Oh,” she said, turning away. “It’s just you.”
“Just me,” he echoed, closing the door behind him. “And yet apparently I’m enough to ruffle your feathers and send you flying away.”
“Don’t think you have anything to do with my feathers,” she spat, crossing the room to meet him beside the door. “Is it a crime to want some free time without a camera shoved in my face? Or have you forgotten what that feels like, Mr. Hollywood?”
He shrugged, looking away. “I don’t like the cameras here, either. Which is why I thought we could continue our discussion here. Where there are none.”
“So you barged into my room, uninvited, to talk about acting?”
“Why not?”
“Do you ever think about other things? Goddamn. If I thought about work all the time, I’d lose my mind.”
“We could talk about something else, if you’d like.”
“What I’d like is alone time,” Elizabeth said through gritted teeth. The fire in her chest was starting to build again. “So, if you don’t mind, the door is right here.”
“I do mind,” he said, coming up behind her and putting his hand on the door to keep her from opening it. “I’m trying to be nice, Elizabeth.”
“Nice would be not invading my personal space.”
“Nice would have been you not getting pissed off and leaving because I didn’t agree with you,” he countered. “I thought dissent was like catnip to you journalists.”
You journalists. He said it like it was something she should be ashamed of and she wasn’t going to fall into his trap. Who was he to talk about her career choice? “I’ll have you know,” she said, poking his chest, “that I don’t care if people agree with me. It’s you that has the bad opinions.”
Darcy stepped back with his hands up, an apology on his tongue, when the aftermath of his departure finally kicked in. Turns out Elizabeth never stopped trying to pull the door open, so when he stepped away she went flying back into Darcy as the door swung open.
They tumbled to the ground, his hands instantly going around her waist to cushion her fall. Darcy groaned as she landed ass-first against his groin.
Not that she particularly paid attention to where she landed. “This is your fault,” she announced, wriggling against him as she tried to get up. Which is approximately when she noticed the hands on her waist. “You can let go of me now.”
“Right.” The word came out a little more strangled than he intended as he released her. Mostly because in the last thirty seconds, his body had forgotten that he was no longer a twelve year old boy. He had been betrayed in the most humiliating of ways as he felt his cock stir underneath the weight of Elizabeth in his lap. “If you’d please get off me I’d like to–hng.”
A soft groan escaped his mouth before he could continue the thought. Elizabeth wriggled once again as she started to stand up and life went from mildly awkward to full-out embarrassment as the girl-in-question finally realized what was poking at her underneath her skirt. She stopped moving up and instead–as elegantly as she could (which wasn’t very)–she turned around so she was facing him, her legs spread over his thighs. She grinned when she met his eyes, which only made him turn his face away. As if he could escape now.
“Aww,” she intoned, moving her hips in a small circle. “Is Mr. William Darcy showing a little bit of human emotion?”
His eyes fluttered shut. “Elizabeth,” he said breathlessly. “I would appreciate it if you never mentioned this to anybody. Ever.”
“And yet…” She grinned. “You’re pretty aroused for someone who called me, and I quote, tolerable.”
“ Elizabeth .”
She knew that this was supposed to be the part where she walked away with prime blackmail material. But there was something delicious in the way that Darcy’s jaw tensed and his eyes squeezed shut that made her push the boundaries a little farther than she normally would. This was the most emotion she’s seen on his face beyond contempt or absolute boredom in the few short weeks she’s had the displeasure of knowing the man. “I can’t make any promises,” Elizabeth said, wiggling her hips. “What do I have to gain by keeping this between us? Because I’m sure your girlfriend would love to know about–”
Darcy’s eyes shot open and he scowled at Elizabeth. “Caroline is not my girlfriend,” he gritted from between his teeth.
Elizabeth shrugged. “Could have fooled me.”
He couldn’t take it anymore. All this teasing and flirting–for what? She didn’t even know what she was talking about. If she wanted to play games, he knew how to win. Maybe then he’d be able to stop thinking about her more than he ought to. William’s hands, which he had plastered at his sides to keep himself from touching her again, rose to tease the hem of Lizzie’s skirt before sliding beneath to grip her thighs.
“What are you doing?” she squealed as he pulled her up so she sat on his hips instead of his thighs. “You’re–”
Oh.
Oh .
All she had wanted was to make fun of him. Just a little. Getting hard for someone you didn’t like was supposed to be embarrassing. Turns out, what’s even more embarrassing was getting wet for someone she was determined to hate. But with how his fingers gripped into her thighs in a way that would likely leave some semblance of bruises tomorrow. Oh, god. No wonder why Caroline seemed to follow Darcy around like a lost puppy.
A few months ago, there was an underwear campaign that launched a few vaguely NSFW billboards across LA and New York starring none other than a scantily clad, well-oiled William Darcy. Charlotte and Lizzie, along with a good half dozen gossip mags, joked that it looked like the outfit coordinator must have stuffed the guy’s underwear.
Elizabeth Bennet could now report that the billboard was not over-compensating. Let the record state that William Darcy does not stuff his boxers.
She readjusted her weight and rolled her hips over him, earning a low groan from the man beneath her. Definitely packing, she thought, swallowing hard. Not with the way his cock twitched against her pussy as she practically gave him a lap dance. And all reason flew from her head and she put her hands against his chest.
“Proposition: No kissing, no talking, yes condom,” she breathed. Regardless of her bad decisions, she wasn’t going to let this situation get out of control. Or, not more out of control than it already was. They were just… two consenting adults. Who hated each other. “Then we never talk about this ever again.”
Darcy flinched and loosened his grip on her thighs. Those weren’t the words he expected from her after what he did. Welcome words, sure. Except completely out of left field from what he knew about Elizabeth Bennet. Not that he knew much to begin with. “But–”
“What did I say about no talking?” Elizabeth snapped. “We can stop if you don’t agree to the rules.”
He sighed and looked to the ceiling, pushing them up so they were both sitting instead of laying across the floor. There was the woman he knew. “If I’m not allowed to talk, how am I supposed to agree?” he challenged. “Or make sure that what I’m doing is working for you?”
She arched a brow like she had no idea what he was talking about. This was supposed to be just sex. Not whatever he had in his head. “Just do whatever it is that you do when you fuck a pretty girl at the club or something,” she said. “Worry about yourself and try to get me off before you leave.”
“You said no kissing,” he said, his eyes landing on her lips.
Elizabeth sighed. This was becoming so much more tedious than she wanted. If he had any more to say, she’d rather brush herself off, push him out of the room, and take care of herself. Which at this point, might be less embarrassing. “Minimal talking. You can kiss me, but I don’t have to kiss you back, and yes condom . Are you done negotiating?” she bit out.
Finally, he grinned and held his hands up with no contest. “With pleasure,” he quipped before dipping his head to press his mouth against the crook of her neck. His fingers trailed up the sides of her legs before making quick work of the buttons of her blouse.
His tongue trailed down her chest as he pulled her shirt open before stopping at the cups of her bra. Darcy smiled at the practical tan structure. He admitted that he spent maybe a little too much time wondering what kind of underwear Elizabeth wore and he was pleased to know now one of the many bras of Elizabeth Bennet, though he tried to ignore the part of his brain that wanted to know all of them. He unceremoniously yanked the bra cups down and watches as her nipples tightened in the cool air of her bedroom.
He’s halfway to pressing his mouth to her breast when she pulls him out of his concentration. “I was just looking for a quick fuck, not whatever game you’re playing,” she said, curling her chest away from his touch.
It felt weird, sitting in William Darcy’s lap, having him pay so much attention to her. It’s the most attention he’s given her through their whole acquaintance and now she’ll never be able to get the memory of Darcy looking appreciatively at her tits out of her head. Any other guy would have peeled her clothes off and gotten right to it. She didn’t want to think of why he wasn’t doing exactly that.
“I’m not playing games. It’s called foreplay, Elizabeth.” He shook his head with a sigh. “You said I could do this my way,” he said, pushing her back into the bed. “Maybe next time, you can lead.”
“This isn’t happening again,” she bit out as he ran a knuckle over her nipple. Her eyes squeezed shut as his breath warmed her skin.
“Sure.”
Except he said it like he didn’t believe it. And that infuriated her. “You’re too cocky,” she snipped. “This is a one time thing. Consider this a moment of weakness and you can look down on me about it forever if you must.”
“I would never…” He stopped and shook his head, replacing his unsure expression with the cocky one from earlier. “Minimal talking, Elizabeth. Please remember the rules.”
He made sure she was unable to answer by leaning over and taking one of her nipples in his mouth, grazing the skin with his teeth until he heard her hiss of pain dissolve into a soft moan. Darcy smiles against her skin and shifts one of his hands back down to her skirt. He brushes his hand against the soft skin of her thighs before daring to reach under her hem to the moist panties underneath.
Elizabeth bucked her hips as he presses his fingers against her, before she remembered who she was dealing with. Her brain is trying desperately to remind her that she shouldn’t be so enthusiastic. Darcy’s going to get the wrong idea. He already has the wrong idea. Except it was so hard to remember that she’s supposed to hate this man with his fingers so close to her pussy.
But before his hand slipped under the material of her panties, Darcy pulled away. A disappointed gasp left Elizabeth’s mouth before she knew what she was doing. She hoped he didn’t notice as he wrapped one arm around her back and the other at her ass as he stood.
Her heart launched into her chest as she found herself in the air, pressed tight against Darcy’s chest. “What are you–”
Her unasked question was answered as he set her down on top of her comforter. He smirked as he leaned over her. “Is this more comfortable?” he asked, his voice sending a shot of electricity through her stomach.
She nodded silently at this new positioning. She wasn’t in charge anymore, though come to think about it–she doubted she ever was. Now Darcy was on top of her and all she could think was that she really liked being under him. Especially when his hands fell back into place at her thighs, pressing his fingers into her skin as he flipped her skirt over her hips to reveal her panties.
Her hips bucked again as she watched him stare at her like she was something to be appreciated. Elizabeth’s stomach turned as she waited for him to do something. Anything.
Then, as if he knew what she was thinking, he hooked two fingers in her panties and shimmied them down to her thighs. But he didn’t go for his belt next like she wanted. Instead, he moved his hand to the side, rubbing his finger across her clit for a brief moment before plunging a finger inside of her. “How’s this?” he asked.
Elizabeth opened her eyes to find Darcy staring down at her. Like he actually cared about the answer. This was getting too complicated, Jesus Christ. “It’s fine,” she said, wriggling against his hand as he started moving his finger in and out. “You know, you’re allowed to just fuck me.”
Darcy’s face scrunched together in concentration and his hand stopped mid-thrust. “Which means, not good enough.”
Elizabeth sighed. “Which means: stop playing games with me, Darcy, and fuck me before I decide you’re not worth the trouble.”
He rolled his eyes, disbelieving. Elizabeth wanted right then and there to get up and give up on this agreement, when he shifted his weight and twisted his hand, curling his finger until– “ Oh ,” she gasped, sinking against his hand. A shock of pleasure shot up her spine and she tried to hold it in so he couldn’t have the satisfaction of knowing he’d won this part.
Except of course he knew. He smirked and continued his ministrations until Lizzie was gasping, her eyes squeezed shut, her thighs clamped around his hand as he added a second finger. Her mouth hung open and Darcy contemplated kissing her for all of three seconds before dipping his mouth to breast once again. His teeth sunk farther into her skin this time. And this time, Elizabeth didn’t bother reacting to the pain and threw her head back with a moan.
She sucked in a deep breath as he sucked on her breast, the sensation heightened by the way his hand was pumping between her thighs. She wanted to tell him faster, harder . Except she wasn’t about to make a fool of herself by begging him for it. So, instead, she arched her hips and met every one of his thrusts with her own until he took the hint.
And did he know how to take a hint.
Darcy released her nipple with an audible ‘pop!’ and looked up at her from her chest before daring to add another finger. He stared at her as he stretched her walls and grinned wickedly as Elizabeth’s face erupted in flames. He had no right, she decided, looking so damn pleased with himself. Which she might argue if the muscles between her thighs weren’t contracting in the tell-tale sign of her approaching orgasm.
A scream caught in her throat as he shifted his hand so his thumb could graze her clit as he started moving exactly as she wanted him to. Harder. Faster. Hitting exactly where she needed him to until finally, she couldn’t take his wicked look for a moment longer and her muscles clamped around his fingers. Her eyes rolled back as her vision went white. “Fuck,” she groaned, nearly choking on the word.
“We’re just getting started, Lizzie ,” he whispered against her breast.
Her muscles clenched around his fingers at the sound of her nickname coming from his mouth. It’s the first time he’s said it. But before she can sink into the touch of his hand, he pulls his hand away, leaving her pussy missing his warmth. Focus , she chastised herself. She wasn’t going to let herself get caught up in a nickname. This was just sex.
Darcy snorted as if he could hear her mental argument with herself and her eyes shot back to him. Her jaw dropped as he winked at her before sliding one finger, still glistening with her cum, into his mouth.
Jesus. There’s no reason she should find that hot. And, yet…
“Yes, Condom,” he said, pulling a silver foil from his wallet, his voice breaking her from her horny reverie. He showed it off to her, like he wanted her to approve that it was, in fact, a fully functioning condom. Which, might have been good on a day where she didn’t desperately want him to hurry the fuck up.
“Do you carry them around expecting sex everywhere you go?” she asked, trying not to watch as he tore the foil open and yanked his pants down just low enough for his cock to pop out. She licked her lips unconsciously as she stared.
He shrugged, feeling a little nervous with Elizabeth watching him. “Not everywhere,” he said noncommittally, slipping the latex over his erection. “What would you have done if I didn’t have one?”
“I have condoms,” she snapped. He was infuriating. Especially since he was still so far away. And she hated herself for thinking that. Which only made her hate him for making her like this. This was supposed to be just sex .
“Do you carry them around expecting sex everywhere you go?”
Her cheeks flushed. She deserved that. These days, she used them more for toy maintenance–but he didn’t need to know that. As far as he was concerned, she could be fucking someone new every week. Though obviously that wasn’t the case if she was stooping so low as screwing William Fucking Darcy just because she felt a nice package between his legs.
“Now, Lizzie, I’m going to ask you to spread your legs a little more,” he said matter-of-factly, his hands falling back to her thighs. Like they belonged there.
She didn’t think twice before complying, letting her damp panties fall to the ground as she made more room for her between her legs. But instead of him stepping into position and lining himself up for the main event–he fell to his knees and blew a soft breath against the lips of her pussy.
“What are you doing?” she sputtered. The condom was on. Now was the time for the great finish. Not… foreplay round two?
Darcy didn’t look up from her pussy when he spoke. “I’m making sure you’re properly lubricated, Elizabeth,” he said, punctuating the statement with a long, slow lick against her clit.
Her eyes rolled back, all thoughts evacuating her brain as he pushed his tongue inside her. Her legs buckled against the bed, trapped beneath him, and with nothing else to do, she wrapped her fingers into his hair and tried to push him closer, deeper. She could feel smiling against her skin which infuriated her.
He, however, he took her silent encouragement in stride and ran his hands up her thighs before proceeding to thrust his tongue in and out until the only thing Elizabeth could think about was the muscles tightening between her legs as he brought her once again to–
“Okay, I think you’re ready,” Darcy said as he pushed himself away before she could cum.
A strangled cry gargled from Elizabeth’s throat as the heat of Darcy’s face left her trembling for more. And as a rule, Elizabeth did not tremble. For anybody.
Darcy smirked, wiping her wetness from his face with the palm of his hand. “There’s that death glare I remember,” he said with a fond chuckle. To his immense displeasure, fucking Elizabeth Bennet once didn’t seem to get her out of his system. Perhaps he’d need to take a second chance. Some even say the third time’s the charm. “Am I still in charge, or would you prefer to take the lead for this part?”
She stared at him for a moment, not processing the question, still mourning the loss of her orgasm, until he decided for her. “I’ll take the lead, then,” he said, positioning himself between her legs.
Elizabeth’s eyes rolled back as Darcy sank into her for the first time. A pleased sigh left her throat as he stretched her out, testing her boundaries. She understood why he spent so much time with the foreplay, now. Her arms snaked around his torso and she brought him closer to her, forcing him to twitch inside her. Fuck, he’d barely done anything and he already felt so good. “I thought you were taking the lead,” she whispered.
“I’m making sure you’re capable of taking it, you brat,” he snapped, more amused than anything. He pressed his mouth to the hollow of her neck. “But feel free to let me know if it’s too much, Elizabeth.”
“Fucking pri–” Elizabeth choked on her insult as Darcy pulled out and sank back into her, starting to move with her hips at an achingly slow pace. She hugged him closer and hooked one leg over his back, trying to bring him deeper inside her. Her desperation only made him take his time, making her writhe beneath him in the most appealing way.
Darcy was captivated by the sight of this Elizabeth, with her hair spread behind her head like a crown and her cheeks flushed pink as her inner muscles tensed around his cock. It was unlike any version of the woman that he’d known. And all he wanted was more.
He could stare at her for hours, he realized, with a dull ache in his chest. “William,” she groaned, bringing her hips up to meet his. “ More .”
Her voice shook him from his thoughts. There was only a matter of time before someone came looking for them. It wouldn’t be great for either of them if that person had a camera attached to their shoulder. He wanted, no, he needed her to understand what he was feeling. And if she didn’t want to hear it from his mouth–he’d have to give it to her with his body.
“Do you trust me?” he whispered as he pulled out, feeling a little helpless as she whimpered.
Elizabeth nodded once, before remembering who she was talking to. “No,” she panted between breaths.
“Me neither,” he said, gripping her calf and hooking her right leg over his shoulder. Before she could react to the new position, he thrust back into her in one swift motion.
“Fuuuuuuuck,” Elizabeth groaned and her vision went white.
He grinned as she melted beneath him. The sounds of skin against skin filled the room along with her choked gasps and moans as he continued to move against her hips with almost reckless abandon. Every thrust, he tried to make sure he hit that spot he found earlier. The one that made Elizabeth moan a little louder than she ever meant to.
He wanted to kiss her. More than anything he had wanted in his life.
Given that he didn’t know if he’d ever have this chance again, he leaned over and pressed a hesitant, open-mouthed kiss to her mouth.
So, when he kissed her again–to her deepest surprise–she kissed him back. She ran her hands through his hair and brought his face closer, running her tongue against his as she tasted herself in his mouth.
She tore her mouth away from his and threw her head back with a breathy groan as her muscles clenched and one last orgasm tore through her. He continued to move through her orgasm, getting in a last few thrusts before he finished too–cumming into the condom with a deep moan that ripped through his chest.
He released her leg and fell against her chest, breathless. Enraptured. Wishing they had more time. Maybe Charles was right. Maybe it was time to settle down for once in his life. If Lizzie was thinking the same, then maybe they could–
“Th–Thank you,” Elizabeth mumbled, wiggling out from underneath Darcy. She laid there, next to him, trying to reconcile that the last two orgasms were real and they definitely came from William Darcy. And she didn’t hate it like she was supposed to. In fact, she could safely say she hadn’t had sex like that with anybody. Ever.
The thought terrified her and her face flushed as she turned away from him. Her whole body ached, but in a delicious way that made her kind of want more. It also kind of made her want to pick up yoga so she could be more flexible in case– She pushed the thought from her head and took a calming breath. “I’m sorry to have jumped you like that,” she said finally, breaking their silence. “I’m sure your afternoon’s plans involved a lot less me.”
Darcy made an unfamiliar noise, somewhere between a groan and a scoff. But before she could ask what the noise meant, he cleared his throat and rolled out of bed. Instantly, the bed felt empty in a way Elizabeth hated.
“Pleasure to be of service,” Darcy said stiffly. He slipped the condom off and tied it off, throwing it at her trashcan before yanking his pants back up. “Sorry for putting you in that sort of situation.” Even though he wasn’t sorry. Not even a little bit.
Elizabeth’s heart ached at the apology. She didn’t want an apology! Then, if she didn’t want one, she shouldn’t have given one in the first place. She tried to sit up, but the motion only made her dizzy. Note to self: hydrate before fucking Darcy again .
Wait.
He was straightening out his clothes as she dealt with her inner turmoil, headed back toward the door. Who was he kidding? Elizabeth Bennet didn’t like him. Even if she looked so pretty moaning his name underneath him. “I’ll see you around, Elizabeth,” he said as casually as he could. “Dinner should be ready in an hour, I think.”
He dared to take one more look back at her. She stared at him, dazed, like she was trying to say something. Except it was hard to concentrate when all he could see was the evidence he left trailed across her body. Light bruises already started to form on her breasts and he could imagine that his fingers left marks on her thighs.
Only then did Lizzie realize that while Darcy remained… mostly clothed for the entirety of their encounter, he pretty much exposed every inch of her skin. Even without taking any of her clothes off fully. She tried to flip her bra cups back in place, but that only made him smile before he turned back to the door.
“Remember the rules,” she said, trying to think of something–anything–to say. “You’re not allowed to tell anybody.”
He said nothing and raised one hand as he slipped out the door and closed it behind him. It didn’t escape her notice that he didn’t agree again to their promise. And she didn’t know if she should be upset… or intrigued.
If he asked nicely… she’d probably agree to a round two.