Of course I find it bloody hot, but she doesn’t need to know that.
"Are you making a mockery of my job?"
She blinks slowly. And shrugs one shoulder so seductively, it's as if she's making a move on me. "If you say so."
I grip the wheel harder, and the tension between us grows.
"I wouldn't tempt me if I were you."
"What's that supposed to mean? I’m supposed to be afraid?”
"It means that I like when I have to punish a woman. And it hasn't happened in such a long time, that maybe I wouldn't need much of an excuse to do it again."
There's no playing at anything now. We both know exactly what we're doing. We both know exactly what we want. Maybe we have for a while.
So I keep this up. I push her to where I want her to go.
"Let's be honest, Fran,” I say. "I wouldn't be driving you into town if I didn't want to, now would I?"
Her voice is almost a whisper. "I don't know about that."
"Why did you ask about me punishing women?”
She doesn't reply at first but makes a sound like a little caught mouse. Almost a squeak. We're getting closer to the centre now, and we need to change the subject before things get out of control.
She is absolutely someone in need of a firm hand. I know it. She does, too. It’s as if we’ve been tempted by what happened last night and what’s happening here, like our former selves have been replaced by the bolder versions of us.
Maybe we’re tired of playing by the rules. Maybe we’re tired of skirting around the bush.
“Firm hand?” she asks, her voice as sexy and heated as warmed honey.
“Aye.” I don’t even recognize my own voice, deep and suggestive.
She sighs, and her voice grows a little wistful. She speaks so earnestly, I wonder if this isn’t a part of her act. If this is the real Fran, speaking in all sincerity.
“I’ve always envied Paisley and Islan.”
“Have you?”
“Aye,” she says, turning back to look out the window. She twists a lock of her hair thoughtfully, and she chews on her lip before she elaborates. "It isn't just that they have this big, beautiful family." Her voice is a little wobbly. Has she gotten emotional with these medications and her injury? That happens to people sometimes.
She goes on. "They hated all the rules they had. I hated all my freedom. They hated having to answer to all of you. I hated having to answer to no one." She smiles a little sadly. I look at her briefly, and then my eyes go back to the road, because I'm suddenly very aware that she's being sincere. Maybe that's why she's pushed me. Maybe that's why she's so sassy.
"So yes." Her voice is deep and sultry again, sexy as fuck. "I crave a firm hand. Though I do wonder what a man like that would do to a woman like me."
My mind is teeming with the possibilities of how a man with a firm hand would deal with a woman like her. I could think of a few things.
Some women prefer to be equals. Others prefer an open relationship. Some like old-fashioned relationships, and maybe some like to be with a dominant male.
"We’re very close," she says briskly, pointing outside her window, and at first, I think she’s talking about me and her. Then she pulls out her phone and scrolls through a message.
Suddenly she gasps and taps her screen so quickly I think she's going to break it.
“Everything okay?”
She quickly breathes out. “Aye, of course it is. Just saw something surprising is all. Got a text from a friend who found out some great news.”
Lying again.
