"I'm not scared," Amber retorted, jostling her elbow for a second, rubbing his throat. When was the last time she'd roughhoused? She couldn't even remember. With her brothers, definitely, but they hadn't had a serious case of wrestling in a long, long while-- even if they apparently never would outgrow noogies and casual punches. It was about as much as mom could see before sighing as if she'd raised the world's three most failed children. (Little did she know about real failed children, Eric could’ve told her all about that, being related to one.) Amber grinned, wondering how Eric would try to get himself out of this. He must have his own 'moves.'

Never in her life would've Amber thought she'd be disappointed to get an ass-squeeze. Wasn't damn near physical enough. Would've liked Eric to flip her over, on the table, into his armpit, on to the floor. But she could take care of that. Rotating, arm relaxing from a grip to a hug, Amber slid into Eric's lap. Lifted a leg so that she straddled him, her ass right over his crotch. She smirked down at him, wondering how he’d react. Pin her down somehow? Get pissy that she wasn’t letting him finish his breakfast? Or would his lust win this round? By now she was fairly horny herself—it’d be impossible not to be, sitting on his thighs, arms around his wide shoulders—but it might be better not to follow through, for their upcoming game. "I think you like sneaky," she murmured.