“Huh?”

“Stamp your foot and say, ‘Make me,’ again.”

“That’s weird.” But Svitlana stamped, half-heartedly, like a lamb considering whether to stand up to a sheepdog.

“No. Harder.” She did it again, and looked at me defiantly. “Good. Much better. Now stamp your foot again, and say ‘Make me,’ loud. You can put your tongue out, if you like. Ukrainians do put their tongues out, don’t they? It’s, you know, Slavic?”

Slitlana showed a flash of pink tongue. She stamped her foot, effectively. “Make me, fucker.”

I pushed the bedroom door wide open and stepped back towards her and took a handful of her hair. I tilted her head back and kissed her. Svitlana liked that well enough. I slid one hand down so it was under her ass. I patted her lightly, and she closed her eyes to the kiss. She liked this too. 

Then I moved my other arm round her waist, and the ass-patting hand down to hold the backs of her thighs. One push with my shoulder was all it took, and Svitlana was off her feet, being carried.

“F-fuck! Suchyj Syn!”