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“She staying at your place?”
I nod brusquely.
“Things not going well?”
“It’s fine,” I say again.
Inhaling sharply, Buck presses his lips together. “Cut the bullshit, Oz. What the fuck is going on? Because you were fine when you got back in, now you look like you’re ’bout ready to kill someone.”
“Etta and I…we’re having a few communication issues that I’m not very happy about,” I admit.
Buck’s lip hitches up on one side like he’s fighting a smile. “What kind of communication issues?”
“She’s staying in my house; I expect her to behave…” I trail off, unsure how to phrase it. “A certain way.”
“How old is she?” he asks.
“Twenty-six, I think.”
“And you have to communicate that she needs to respect your home? What exactly is she doing?”
“No.” I sigh. “I’ve found myself feeling certain urges around her.”
Chuckling quietly, Buck shakes his head and relaxes back in his chair. “Did you fuck her? Is she trashing your house because you had sex and then left to be on shift for four days?”
“I didn’t fuck her,” I snap. “And she’s not trashing my house, she’s not a misbehaving teenager.”
“Then spit it out. What the fuck’s the problem?”
“Jesus, fuck,” I snarl. “I want to fucking control her, okay. I want to control everything in a really, really messed-up way.”
Buck’s brow draws down low, and he stares at me. “Control her, how?”
“In every fucking way,” I admit quietly.
Glancing from side to side, Buck twists around, checking to make sure we’re alone. “If you tell anyone what I’m about to say, I will fucking kill you.”
“Okay.” I nod quickly.
“If you look at my wife differently, I’ll fire you.”
Lifting my hands up, I nod again. “Not sure I want to know now, Boss.”
“James and I toy with some power exchange within our marriage,” he confesses quietly.
“Huh.”
“James is a fucking badass, she kicks ass and takes names all day. She’s got a reputation for being an ice queen ballbuster, and she one hundred percent is. At work, she’s unstoppable, and according to her boss, he’s seen grown men literally run away from her in fear. But once she gets home, she doesn’t want to be a badass anymore. She needs someone to take over, and that’s what I do for her. I take over. I make the decisions. I’m in charge.”
“Just while you’re at home?” I ask, suddenly incredibly curious.
“Not just at home, but for the majority of the time we spend together. It works for us. It does not make her any less of a fucking badass, me taking control just lets her relax because she knows I’ve got her. When I’m in charge, she doesn’t have to worry, or stress, or think about anything except being happy.”
“And she likes it…when you take charge?” I ask carefully.
He nods. “It’s what she needs. She asked me for it, and although it’s not something I thought I’d like, I do. I am the happiest I’ve ever fucking been, and that’s because of her and our marriage. Now I just need to knock her up and everything would be fucking perfect.”
“You working on making that happen?” I ask him.
