I was in need of a little tune-up, but my regular mechanic wasn’t on duty when I brought in my car.

I suppose I ought to know how to fix the machine myself, but I’m not handy that way. I’m handy in other ways, so I cut myself slack.

I felt momentarily at a loss. Rafe had always been my go-to guy in more ways than one. But Max looked at my car with the same respect I give her, and I knew I’d put the convertible in good hands.

Besides that, Max was one handsome devil. He had bright red hair and gold-flecked green eyes. When he told me to trust him, I found that I did so. Implicitly.

I went to the tiny lobby to wait. I had brought a magazine with me, snagged from the entryway table right when I left the house. I’d thought I’d selected a fashion magazine, but I’d actually grabbed last month’s Penthouse Letters.

My cheeks turned scarlet when I realized what I was holding. Of course, that’s right when Max walked in. He looked at me, at the magazine in my hands, and back at my face.

“I was going to give you an estimate,” he said, “but maybe you want to meet in the back office where we can have a little privacy.” I shoved the magazine in my purse and trailed after him. My pussy was already pulsing, and I watched as he told a few of his coworkers that he was on break.

Back in the office, he said, “What’s your favorite stuff to read?”

So we weren’t going to be talking about the car.

“The BDSM,” I said without missing a beat. What did I have to lose, after all? He’d already seen what I was reading.

“Yeah?” he asked. “Mine, too.”

I took that as the opening I needed. “I’m especially into the letters where the woman submits,” I said. “The ones where she calls her lover ‘Sir’ and does whatever he wants.”

His eyes positively sparkled at me. I sensed we were on the right track to somewhere sexy. All forlorn thoughts of not having Rafe had disappeared from my mind.

Max came closer to me, and he stroked one hand along the line of my jaw, then cupped my chin in his hand and kissed me. I felt the sparks of fire all the way to my core. I was glad I’d worn pretty panties. I had the feeling he was about to get a good look at them.

“What else do you like?” he asked.

“I like when the guy holds a girl’s wrists in one of his hands,” I said, and then he made my desire come true. He wrapped both of my wrists together and raised them, stretching me out taut. I went on my tiptoes in my strappy high heels to stay balanced. I wondered what Max thought of my outfit. The violet sundress was probably a little silly for a trip to the garage, but I’d had ulterior plans in mind when I’d gotten dressed. Now, I was so turned on I could hardly speak, but I found the game too enjoyable to give up. This back-and-forth incendiary conversation we were engaging in turned me on deeply.

“What do you like?” I asked, my voice a whisper.

“I like putting a bad girl across my lap and spanking her ass before fucking her,” he said. There was a throb in his voice that let me know his dick was hard.

“Or across your desk?” I asked.

“He gave me what I needed, but the whole time I had to continue to ask.”

“That would work, too.”

I pulled my wrists free and assumed the position. He lifted the hem of my dress and admired my ass in my lemon-yellow thong. Then I heard the sound of his hand working his belt buckle and the leather pulling free.

He snapped the belt in the air, and I stiffened. That sound is an aphrodisiac to me, which I supposed he guessed. He snapped the belt a second time. I said two words: “Please, Sir,” and then he was heating my ass cheeks for me, and I was doing my best to muffle the groans welling up inside me. I’d hoped something like this would happen when I’d dressed myself. Maybe I’d brought that magazine along on purpose…

“Rafe told me what you like,” he whispered as he pulled the gusset of my thong away from my dripping snatch.

I lowered my head to the desk. It hadn’t occurred to me that Rafe might tell the other guys at the garage about my fetishes. “He said you like your pussy spanked and your asshole fucked.” As he spoke, he pressed a spit-slickened thumb into my fluttering hole. I gasped for air. The pleasure was overwhelming.

“But Rafe didn’t tell me you like to be whipped.”

That’s because I hadn’t played like that with him. We’d only ever fucked in his office. We hadn’t gotten truly kinky.

“So let’s see what else you like…”

He unzipped his pants, and I felt the knob of his cock against my pussy lips.    I said, “Fuck me, Max,” and he countered with, “Is that how you get what you want?”

“Sir,” I stammered, “please fuck me. Please fuck my tight, wet pussy!”

And he did. I think he was as desperate as I was. I felt him thrust inside me firmly, then withdraw until only the lovely head of his cock was trapped between my pussy lips. He held still. I caught on to the game.

“Fuck me, Sir,” I begged again. He gave me what I needed, but the whole time I had to continue to ask, using the dirtiest words and pleading with him to take care of my desperate cravings.

Max worked me until we were both ready for release. I held myself in check until he gave me the green light to come. Then I let myself go, my engines spinning, my motor whirring as he promised to take me home and give me the spanking I deserved.

And that’s how my pussy got a more thorough tune-up than my car did.

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