“Bring me your hairbrush.”
“Why’s that? Is my hair a mess? Sorry, I’ll fix it.” She threw her head back and gave her thick mane of brown hair a shake. Mikki sidled over to the dresser and picked up the brush, holding it up as a kind of trophy before pulling it through her long dark hair.
“Bring. Me. The. Brush. Now.”
“I will, after I finish brushing my hair.” She gave him the sweetest smile but it was too late, he was across the room in two giant strides. His hand clamped onto her wrist. “Ow!” she whined. “I’m sorry, I was joking.”
“I wasn’t. Let’s see how hilarious you find this brush now.” He sat on the edge of the bed and toppled her across his knee.
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