The Naughty Corner Read online

  “What about Stu?” She glanced at him in the mirror.

  Most people couldn’t tell the two apart. They had the same short brown hair, identical brown eyes, average height. Even their weight was about equal. But Harry had a small scar at the corner of his right eye from an encounter with a low-hanging tree branch when he was six.

  And though the younger of the two, Harry was more outspoken. “Stinky Stu was afraid of having to do another lap around the track, so he blamed it on us.”

  As she turned out of the parking lot, she looked sideways at William in the front seat. “Is that right?” She knew he’d side with his brother.

  “Coach Barnett is a tyrant, Aunt Lola,” William said, his voice a tad whiny. “He makes us run until we almost have heatstroke.”

  “Been there, done that, William,” she said. They’d already pulled that one on the coach, and she wasn’t buying it either. “First of all, you shouldn’t call other kids by derogatory names. Second, I saw Stu”—she’d almost said stinky—“and he didn’t look like an instigator.”

  “And third, you believe the coach,” Harry said snidely. “Adults always stick together. What took you so long in there with him anyway?”

  She stopped at a light, willing herself not to blush. She was far too old to blush. “I was saving your butts from being kicked out of the camp.”

  “Oh, thank you very much,” Harry drawled sarcastically under his breath.

  “That was the deal,” she said. “You do the camp and you get the driving lessons.” She’d had to email the permission slip to Andrea, who’d freaked naturally, but she’d finally signed and agreed to pay for the course, plus additional hours because there was no way Lola was letting the twins practice with her car. They were exceptionally good with the driving instructor since it was something they wanted to do.

  “It’s not a fair deal,” William grumbled. “We have to do five days a week with Coach Hannibal and all we get in return is three days of driving.”

  Lola ignored him except for one thing. “Hannibal?”

  She sensed his eye roll without even turning her head. “Hannibal Lecter.”

  Her laugh was difficult to stifle. The nickname was quite amusing, almost as good as Heckle and Jeckle. But of course, with the boys, she had to keep a straight face, especially since she’d just admonished them over Stinky Stu’s moniker. “You’re exaggerating. He was very reasonable when I talked to him.” If demanding that she accept the boys’ punishment could be called reasonable. “He agreed to give you another chance.” If she allowed him to spank her. “I don’t want to have to report to your father that you got kicked off the team.” It was the threat of threats, and the boys shut up.

  She turned the corner into the mini-mall that housed the driving school and rolled to a stop in an empty parking spot. “I have to go out tonight and Charlotte’s coming over to hang out with you.”

  “We don’t need no stinking baby-sitter,” Harry quipped. They weren’t classic movie buffs, so she had no idea where he’d come up with the line.

  She leaned around the seat to look at him. “She’s not a baby-sitter. All she’s going to do is hang out for a while.”

  Harry snorted.

  “You got a hot date?” William chimed in.

  “No, I do not have a hot date. It’s business,” she snapped, not feeling guilty in the least since it wasn’t a hot date; it was something she had to do to keep them in football camp. “I’ll pick you up at five.”

  As soon as they were out of the car, she backed up, then hit the speaker phone. “Call Charlotte.”

  The phone rang five times. Maybe Charlotte was either in a session or a meeting. She didn’t get summers off from her guidance counselor duties, spending two or three days a week counseling kids on college applications, SATs, courses to take to enhance their eligibility for getting into a good school, et cetera. Charlotte’s recommendation was that students attend a junior college first. It was cheaper on the parents’ pocketbook, and there were several highly regarded colleges in the Bay Area.

  Charlotte answered on the last ring before voicemail picked up. “Have you been committed to the asylum yet?”

  The twins were enough to drive Lola to insanity. “I’m signing the papers tomorrow, but for tonight I’m free. Are you busy?”

  “I happen to be dateless.” The sad fact was that they’d both been dateless for months.

  “Favor?”

  “Sure.” Charlotte always agreed and felt no compunction about backing out if she found she didn’t like the terms.

  “I’ve got a hot date tonight and I wondered if you could stay with my adorable little princelings.”

  “Ooh, a hot date. Tell all. Who with?”

  “The coach.”

  Charlotte gasped. “Oh my God. No way.”

  “Oh yeah.” Lola ran through the tail end of a yellow light, making it just in time. “He propositioned me after camp today.”

  “I’m in awe. How did you manage that?”

  “I didn’t. My darling little nephews pissed him off, and he said he’d only let them stay if I took their punishment.”

  Charlotte was silent for five long seconds. “What exactly does that mean?”

  “It means I’m going over to his house tonight to receive a spanking.”

  “Get out.” Charlotte’s laugh rang through the car.

  Lola smiled to herself. She was liking the idea more and more.

  “Is he a freak or something?”

  “I’m not sure what he is. But it’s hot. And I’m going.” She turned up the big hill toward her condo complex. “Will you help me?”

  “You could just let the boys stay by themselves.”

  “We’re talking about Heckle and Jeckle. Who knows what they’ll do while I’m out.”

  “True. But I’ll only do it on one condition.”

  “Name it.” Lola would agree to anything.

  “I want dirty details.”

  She pulled into her complex and zipped into her carport. “How dirty and what level of detail?”

  “Ev-ery-thing,” Charlotte enunciated.

  Despite Charlotte being her best friend, Lola wasn’t one for sharing every little thing, especially about sex. Charlotte knew the major details about her marriage, and Lola knew about Charlotte’s five failed relationships (no marriages), but they’d never shared all the dirty details. Of course, one would wonder why a therapist who specialized in relationship and sex counseling could have five failed relationships, but Charlotte always said it was easier to tell other people what to do than to fix your own stuff.

  “How about I tell you in euphemisms?” Lola suggested.

  “Hmm,” Charlotte considered. “Throw in a Hawaiian pizza and you’ve got a deal.”

  The boys hated Hawaiian. They wanted everything. Probably because their mother never let them have pizza, neh-ver. “Deal.” She felt rather giddy breaking one of Andrea’s rules.

  “What time do you want me there?”

  “Six.” She could pick up a you-bake pizza on the way back from getting the boys. “Thanks a bunch. You’re a lifesaver.”

  She’d barely unlocked the door when her cell phone rang again. She juggled the two gym bags off her shoulder, dumped them on the front entry tile, and kicked the door shut behind her so the cat wouldn’t get out. Then she upended her bag, grabbing the phone.

  “We’re going into testing mode ASAP.” Frank, one of the engineers she worked with at Fletcher Cellular, answered her hello in his usual monotone.

  “Not today. You told me Monday.” God, today could run into tonight. And she could not miss her date, or the coach would throw the boys out. But if she missed the testing, she’d get fired. It was her job to document the procedure for the manual.

  “The powers that be want it done by Monday. That means weekend work. And I don’t get paid by the hour like you do. But George still has a couple of things to tweak.”

  George was Fletcher’s second engineer on the new
product release for a GSM base station transceiver. In layman’s terms, it was a global system for mobile communications, that is, cellular transmission. She’d worked closely with both of them to understand the product in order to effectively write the instruction guides. This particular manual was for installation and commissioning and was the last in the series she’d been working on.

  “Won’t be today, though,” Frank went on. “But be on standby.

  Lola almost groaned with relief. “Just give me a heads-up when you’re ready.”

  “Sure thing, dude.” Frank liked to pretend he was a California surfboy, but as far as she knew, he’d never even been on a surfboard.

  She had enough time for some work before she headed out. The condo was a three-bedroom, two-bath unit. She justified the extra expense because she used one of the bedrooms as a home office, which was tax deductible. The twins were using the spare room, and Andrea had actually sprung for bunk beds for their stay so they wouldn’t have to sleep together on a pull-out couch.

  Knowing the basics, Lola prepared the test-procedure document so that all she had to do was drop in the diagrams and the exact specifications, then tweak what she’d already put together. Glancing at the clock on her computer, she had an hour before she had to pick up the boys. She wanted to shower and shave her legs before they got home because she certainly didn’t want them to see she was primping.

  She was in the bathroom when Ghost appeared on the closed toilet lid. Ghost was white and small, under seven pounds, and she moved on soundless paws. She was forever scaring Lola, who would turn around to find the cat simply there, sitting on a chair, the desk, the sofa, the TV stand, the bed, staring at her. Like an apparition. Lola had adopted her from the shelter the week she’d moved into the condo two years ago. With apartment living, the only pet she’d had up till then was a goldfish named Morty, who’d disappeared about six months after Ghost arrived, despite the fact that Lola put his fishbowl on the top shelf of the bookcase where there was no way the cat could get to him. A sad mystery. Ghost’s claws had been removed by her previous owner, so she was indoor-only—necessary because Lola’s condo complex backed onto a wooded hill that stretched down into a canyon where packs of coyotes roamed.

  “You’re giving me the Ghost eye,” she said as she removed the skirt and her tank top.

  The cat blinked and curled her paws beneath her, settling in. Lola, who wasn’t into fussy things, had installed a fluffy cover over the toilet lid for Ghost’s comfort.

  She ran the shower taps until they were hot, then stepped beneath the spray. Letting the needles pound her back and buttocks, she thought of the coach’s touch on her. Would it hurt? She found herself getting wet as she imagined the experience, and it wasn’t the shower. The rush of the running water became the coach whispering in her ear, telling her that he hoped the boys kept on misbehaving so he could keep on punishing her.

  She hadn’t even had a taste of it, and she wanted more, too.

  3

  SHE WAS PROMPT. GRAY’S DOORBELL RANG AT EXACTLY SEVEN o’clock. He’d managed to get home only half an hour ago. With coaching in the mornings, more often than not, he didn’t leave the office until nine at night. He’d rushed his CFO out tonight in order to be home for Lola.

  She stood in a pool of sunlight, the sun falling low enough in the sky to reach beneath the overhang. Shafts of light shone through her black hair as it cascaded over her shoulders. His pulse picked up. She’d adorned her features with a hint of makeup and a light pink gloss, and he imagined those lips on him.

  Holding the door wide for her to enter, he said nothing, as befitted the one who was in charge. She needed to learn to take nonverbal cues.

  Her gold sandals slapped lightly on the tile, then she stopped in the entry hall as he shut the door. He circled her, giving her the once-over, then the twice-over.

  “I’m glad you know how to follow instructions.” The black-and-gold pattern of her T-shirt matched the gold sandals, and the denim skirt hit her midthigh, leaving a long expanse of leg bared for his inspection. He was a leg man, and he imagined hers wrapped around him.

  “Here are the rules,” he said, because what was a little dominance play without a few rules to make things interesting?

  “Look, I said you could spank me—”

  He covered her lips with his palm. “First rule, you only talk when I give you permission or when I ask you a question.”

  Her eyes deepened to the color of rich coffee. Then she licked him. He felt it like a stroke along his cock from base to tip, and he was instantly hard. It put him off-kilter; he should have known she’d have this effect on him. He’d fantasized about her for a week, dreamed of having her in his house, at his mercy.

  “And no licking me unless I order you to,” he added, maintaining control.

  “Order me to,” she whispered against his hand.

  Christ. He wanted it now, but this was far too fast. He’d thought to savor things with her, build up slowly. “If you’re not careful, I’m going to have to punish you for your own bad behavior, not just the twins’.”

  Her lips moved beneath his palm as she smiled. Then she grabbed him by the wrist and pulled his hand down. He felt marked by her lip gloss. “You haven’t punished me at all yet.”

  Recognizing her excitement in her quickened breath, there was an answering rise in his heart rate. “Rules first,” he said. “No talking or I’ll have to gag you.”

  “I’ve never been gagged before.” Then she slapped her hand over her mouth. “Oops.”

  Holy hell, she was going to be a handful. He’d used scarves, ropes, zip ties, ball gags, and anything else that was handy, but he usually led up to that kind of thing.

  He stepped closer, breathing in the sweet scent of shampoo. “You will not back talk,” he said menacingly. “You will follow every instruction without question. You will not flinch or move away. You will take it all.” He dropped his voice to a whisper. “And you will love it.”

  Her eyes seemed to light from within. “Yes, sir,” she murmured, her lip gloss smudged by his palm.

  He ran his thumb beneath her lip, the heat of her skin rushing through him. “I don’t need to be called sir or master.”

  “What should I call you?”

  Anything. Everything. “Gray.”

  “I like Coach.”

  “Coach will be fine. Now go into the living room.” He pointed to the left, around the wall.

  The house wasn’t huge. After the divorce, he hadn’t needed more than three bedrooms, one a home office, another for Rafe. Straight ahead was the kitchen, with far more appliances than he could ever use, a breakfast nook to the left, and the family room on the right across the kitchen island. A small formal dining room lay adjacent to the breakfast nook, and it in turn circled round to the living room he’d directed her to. He rarely used the room except in the winter when he enjoyed a fire on a rainy evening.

  He almost bumped into her when she stopped just on the other side of the living room’s threshold. A straight-backed wooden chair faced the wall in the far corner. As a mischievous boy, he’d often been forced to sit in a chair just like it. Face the wall, Gray. He knew about being bad. He knew about accepting punishment. And he knew how to make a woman enjoy the punishment he meted out.

  “The naughty corner,” he whispered against her hair, breathing in her heady womanly scent. “Assume the position.” His heart kicked into high gear. He enjoyed games. He was kinky. He liked the feel of a woman’s hot skin against his palm. He got off on the moan of pleasure they inevitably gave in to.

  He wanted to hear Lola moan. He wanted to feel her ass against his hand, the sting radiating up his arm. He wanted the heat of her to make him sizzle.

  She was looking at him wide-eyed and innocent. “The position?”

  “Bend over and put your hands on the back of the chair.” When she didn’t move, he lightly swatted her ass. A delectable precursor. “Do it now.”

  She skirted the so
fa, wove between it and the coffee table, then around an end table, her sandals silent on the rug until she hit the hardwood on the other side.

  Then she leaned over and braced herself on the back of the chair, her shapely ass beckoning him.

  He needed his hands on her flesh.

  * * *

  LOLA FELT SHIVERY WITH DESIRE. SHE’D NEVER BEEN KINKY. SHE had no idea why the thought of his hand slapping her bottom turned her on. Maybe it was the months since she’d had a man. Maybe it was just the coach. Maybe anything he wanted to do to her would turn her insides to liquid. His rules heated her. His voice in her ear made her breasts swell with need. The salty taste of his palm when she’d licked him still tantalized her. With her back to him, she couldn’t see him, could only feel the warmth of his body, and her rump in the air made her feel deliciously exposed.

  “Very nice.” His voice was low, a little hoarse, as if the sight excited him.

  She had so many questions. Was he a dom? She wasn’t naïve; she’d heard the term. She’d just never been with a man who was into this sort of stuff. Did he always do this to women? Had he done these things with his wife? Why did he get off on spanking? But of course she was supposed to be silent.

  “To start, we’re going to need to raise this delightful skirt.” He leaned over her backside, hands on the hem, body nestled against her from abdomen to groin. Good Lord, he was hard. Her body answered with a rush of moisture.

  If she’d had any doubt this was sexual, the idea was banished completely.

  He raised her skirt inches at a time, his fingers hot and slightly rough along her thighs. “Has anyone ever spanked this luscious ass before?”

  She was allowed to answer his questions. “No, never.” Her voice was so husky she almost didn’t recognize herself.

  “It’s good to be a woman’s first,” he told her as he stepped back to ease the skirt up over her butt. Comparatively cool air washed over her skin.

  “Christ,” he muttered on a breath. “You’re gorgeous. Spanking a beautiful ass like this is a man’s wet dream.”

  His compliments heated her as much as the brush of his fingers across her flesh. Oh yes, she liked the words, she loved the words.