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“Well, you clearly didn’t want to go alone,” I snap back, not meaning for it to come out as harsh or as cruel as it does. But I can see her shrink down in her seat before glancing up at me.
“No, I didn’t want to go alone.”
As we stare at each other for a moment, it suddenly dawns on me that she didn’t want to go alone, and she didn’t want to go with him. But maybe she actually wanted me there—which doesn’t make any sense. Why me?
Suddenly I’m reminded of the conversation we had this morning about the way Sadie feels when she’s around me, about the way I calm her and give her guidance.
I don’t respond to her comment, giving her only a simple nod. “Finish eating.”
With a crooked smile, she does. I bite the inside of my cheek to stifle my smile every time she takes a bite and does a little side-to-side dance in her seat as she chews.
She’s insufferable.
An enigma. Brilliant and bubbly and messy and so, so strange.
I can’t stop thinking about the way Sadie reacts to my commands. All the way back to the house, I keep replaying every moment that I’ve ordered her what to do, and she either does it or rebels. But either way, she seems to like it.
And I seem to like it.
What is this? What are we doing?
I’ve never been in a relationship like this. I’m not like my brothers, and I never considered myself a very kinky person. I enjoy sex for what it is and nothing more. But this isn’t sex. It’s something entirely different. Something more fulfilling and rewarding. But where does it end? How much more can we do without crossing that line? My palms itch to test the limits, just to see exactly what she does. It feels too addicting to resist.
Once we’re back in the private confines of my house, I feel restless. I have too much on my mind about Sadie to just let her out of my sight.
So, I decide to try something.
Sitting on the bench by the front door, I peel off each of my shoes and place them against the wall as I normally do.
Sadie stands next to me and does the same. But as she often does, she kicks hers off with the heel of one shoe under the toe of the other and flings them into the corner haphazardly. Then she makes brief eye contact with me—as if to challenge me. Like a child misbehaving on purpose.
I should be annoyed, but actually, I’m pleased.
Standing in the living room, I slowly roll up each of my sleeves.
“Miss Green,” I say in a low voice. She turns around with anticipation on her face. Rather than just giving her a regular order, I change the inflection of my voice just a hair, testing to see if it changes the way she responds. “You have reading to do for my class,” I say boldly. “Get your book and sit down and read.” Then I add, “Now.”
The hairs on the back of my neck stand up, and my veins are thrumming with excitement. Maybe I’m misreading the situation. There’s a chance she could just pick up her book and sit down and read or ignore me and walk away, and this could all be in my head, but I have a feeling it’s not. I have a feeling that little shoe kick a moment ago was her way of saying she’s in the mood to be a brat.
Which is fine by me because I’m in the mood to punish her.
Sadie stares at me for a moment, eyes glancing back and forth between mine. “No,” she says, shoving her shoulders back. It’s one clipped and short syllable that carries so much weight.
“No?” I retort with a quizzical brow.
“I don’t want to,” she replies.
“You wanted my guidance and my direction, Miss Green, and now I’m giving it to you.”
The corner of her mouth lifts in the smallest, subtlest of ways before she replies. “And I’m telling you to fuck off. I don’t want to do what you say all the time.”
Just like in the classroom, my blood begins to boil. And I find it fascinating that while that incident was in the heat of the moment, this one, which is a bit more orchestrated, feels just as powerful and intoxicating.
I take a menacing step toward her. “You will do as I say, Miss Green.”
“Or what?” she replies defiantly, lifting her chin toward me. And those two words set me on fire. The or what. It’s an invitation. Like a secret that only we know the meaning to.
“You know what,” I reply.
