“Look,” I say, “I’m in no mood right now.”
“Oh?” she asks with a sarcastic smile. “It seems to me you’re in a mood right now. In fact, you’re always in a mood and a mood is no excuse to be impolite.”
“God, just give it a rest.”
“God,” she mimics, “just apologize.”
Frustration and lust rise in equal measure within me but frustration wins out. Okay, frustration doesn’t win out but I manage to suppress the lust so I don’t do something stupid and have sex with her. Okay, I don’t manage to suppress the lust but I manage to say, “I’m sorry, your highness. Please excuse my impropriety. You can get back to being more important than everyone else now.”
This is a little more rude than I intend to be but it’s still a pretty impressive thing to say, since what I really want to say is, “Turn around, bend over and grab the counter so I can fuck you until neither of us can walk.”
I expect her to either walk away in a huff or tell me to get lost but her reaction is entirely different from that. Her eyes widen in an “excuse me?” face and a slight smile comes to her lips. She puts her hands on her hips—as if I needed another excuse to look down there—and says in a voice that sounds simultaneously sarcastic and playful, “I’m so sorry, milord. I’d forgotten that it’s you, in fact, who is more important than anyone else. Please excuse the mistake. I promise from now on if I see you walking in the same general direction as me, I’ll throw myself over the nearest piece of furniture so I’m not in your way.”
Well, now I want to throw her over the nearest piece of furniture. God, this is annoying.