The road was almost completely empty. I hadn’t seen another car in at least ten minutes.
As subtly as possible, I fished out the red hair band I had kept in my pocket all weekend and slipped it over my hand and onto my wrist.
Now, I was fair game. He could do anything and everything to me, and we both knew it would be completely consensual.
My mind raced with possibilities; he could throw me in the back seat and ravage me. He could drag me out of the car and fuck me in the dirt, or he could bend me over the hood of the car.
We were practically in the middle of nowhere, and unlikely to get caught. But the possibility was always there, and it was getting me riled up to think about.
“Sweet?” I asked, holding out the bag of candy we’d bought earlier in the trip, casually flashing him my wrist.
“No thanks, babe.” He said, barely glancing in my direction.
Had he seen it?
His expression hadn’t changed. He didn’t do a double take. He just continued driving.
He looked tired, and I suddenly felt guilty that I wanted rough, high-energy sex, and he probably just wanted to go home and get some sleep.
I was considering taking off the hairband, thinking; I could wear it tomorrow instead. My lustful urges…
