Free Submissive Desires by Carolyn Faulkner

out!”
    He was laughing again, deep and rich and pouring over her like honey on a sopaipilla. “Well, try to get some sleep, anyway. I’m gonna go get some work done – you should, too.”
    Maura sighed. “Yes, Sir.”
    “Just try, hon. I’ll see you tomorrow at eleven-thirty.”
    “I’ll be the one driving around and around and around trying to decide whether or not to park and get out . . .”
    “I’ll just go stand in front of you, and then you’ll have to stop,” he supplied promptly.
    “If I don’t mow you over first . . .”
    “It’ll be fine, I promise. Really.”
    “I know that intellectually. But it’s very scary to me. Very.”
    “I know. That’s why I’m having you to take as many precautions as possible, Maura. So you’ll feel safer.”
    Maura sat up straighter in her chair. “All of the safety warnings in the world wouldn’t alleviate my severe nervousness about this.”
    “Then we’ll hug real quick in the parking lot and then go in and get lunch quick. Food’ll distract you.”
    The man had an answer to everything. “Okaaaaay,” she didn’t sound at all sure of his ability to make her comfortable. “Maybe what we ought to do is meet in the parking lot and then go away and meet again for dinner.”
    “As much as I care about you, honey, I’m not going to drive all the way home then all the way back, even for you.”
    Maura grimaced. “I forgot.”
    “Try not to stay up too late. I want you in bed no later than one – you hear me?”
    She sighed. “Yes, Sir.”
    “That’s my girl. And try to get some sleep.”
    “Yes, Sir.”
    “Good girl. I’m gonna go. See you later.”
    “Okay. Night. Sleep well.”
    “I will. You too.”
    Maura hung up the phone and just sat there for a long while, staring at it, hoping she could work up the nerve necessary to stop her car . . . or to get to the restaurant in the first place.Maura spent the entire of the next morning, after her eyes had popped open promptly at the abhorrent hour of five-thirty, futzing about what she was going to wear, how she was going to act, and practicing conversations with him even while she was driving to the restaurant. Her heart was going to hammer its way right out of her chest in a bloody mess, she was sure.
    It was only eleven-fifteen, but even before she turned into the half-empty parking lot, she could see a big black truck parked right out in front, and someone – definitely of the male persuasion – was leaning negligently against the back end of it. Deciding to be brave for once in her life, she pulled up into the space next to him and shut off the car.
    But she couldn’t seem to make herself get out of it. So much for bravery.
    Simon knew exactly who had just pulled up beside him, and he was halfway around the end of the truck before she’d cut off the engine. He expected the car door to swing open, so he stayed back a little, but then it didn’t. And still didn’t. And really didn’t.
    36

    Finally, Simon walked up to the driver’s side window and squatted down. It was such a low-slung sports car that that put him at eye level with her. She looked stark and faint, but the window rolled down electronically, although she had yet to look at him.
    “Are you okay?”
    She sighed while Simon was busily drinking in her profile. They’d exchanged pictures at one point - and drivers’ license photos were atrocious by definition - but hers had not done her justice. He was fairly entranced by her hair as it hung in loose waves past her shoulders – the pictures he seen must’ve been older, because none of them showed her with hair quite that long. It was luscious, and Simon had to keep himself from reaching out to bury his hand in it at the nape of her neck, capturing a hank of it to let its silky softness dribble over his fingers. He was instantaneously hard as a rock, and nothing of the rest of what he saw in her plain but delicate looks assuaged that in the least. He wanted her desperately on