It's silly, it is just a silly little fantasy her mind has decided to throw at her in what has to be one of the most inappropriate moments.
But now it has set firm roots in her head and all she can picture is that flamin' red car and his leather gloves.
To be more precise her bent over the bonnet of the Quattro face pressed against the shiny surface.
Although she has shown this kind of affection for his car before, it had never been intimately so and with him taking her for a different kind of ride, while she is left clinging on for dear life.
This is possibly one of her trashier fantasy's involving him, who would have thought a dirty ally down some dead end back street of London would get her blood pumping.
Look over at him interrogating a suspect, she wonders what he would do about it if he knew. If he knew that while she was leaning against the damp brick wall, she was rolling over the idea of his leather clad hand parting her thighs. . . he would either have a heart attack, snap at her to get a move on or just do it. Just push her over the car, pull her tight jeans down far enough to be able to have her there and then as roughly as he liked.
She joins him back in the relative warmth of the Quattro, now that he is done beating ten shades of shit out of some lowlife unlucky enough to learn his method of policing.
"Right then, we've got some murderin' scum to nick!" He announced pulling on his black leather gloves.
A blush graced her cheeks as she watch his hands tighten around the steering wheel. Just a fantasy she reminded herself, not going to happen.
But now it has set firm roots in her head and all she can picture is that flamin' red car and his leather gloves.
To be more precise her bent over the bonnet of the Quattro face pressed against the shiny surface.
Although she has shown this kind of affection for his car before, it had never been intimately so and with him taking her for a different kind of ride, while she is left clinging on for dear life.
This is possibly one of her trashier fantasy's involving him, who would have thought a dirty ally down some dead end back street of London would get her blood pumping.
Look over at him interrogating a suspect, she wonders what he would do about it if he knew. If he knew that while she was leaning against the damp brick wall, she was rolling over the idea of his leather clad hand parting her thighs. . . he would either have a heart attack, snap at her to get a move on or just do it. Just push her over the car, pull her tight jeans down far enough to be able to have her there and then as roughly as he liked.
She joins him back in the relative warmth of the Quattro, now that he is done beating ten shades of shit out of some lowlife unlucky enough to learn his method of policing.
"Right then, we've got some murderin' scum to nick!" He announced pulling on his black leather gloves.
A blush graced her cheeks as she watch his hands tighten around the steering wheel. Just a fantasy she reminded herself, not going to happen.