Three Dark Hours

by Maggie Carpenter

  Brad? Am I really attracted to Brad? Is something happening between us? Huh, Brad spanking me, wow.

  Closing her eyes she tried to fall back asleep but the lucid vision had left her wet and needy. Dropping her fingers to play against her sex she rubbed aggressively, and uninvited Brad made a return visit.

  He was smoothing something hard and cool over her burned skin, telling her the paddling she was about to receive was not just because she needed it, but because she’d admitted to not having experienced a hard piece of leather swatting her bottom.

  “You’ve been able to write about things you’ve not experienced convincingly, but you failed when it came to being paddled; in that last chapter it was obvious.”

  “It was?” she squeaked.

  “To me it was, probably not to everyone, but to me, and since I’m in charge of maintaining your standards it’s something that must be corrected. Are you ready?”

  Isobel’s busy fingers massaged and circled her clit as the fantasy swept her forward to her moment. For years she had fantasized about a paddle landing on her bottom, and now the fantasy was about Brad delivering the imagined blows, not Patrick, not the blue-eyed, black-haired hero of her fantasies.

  “I asked if you’re ready?” he said sternly, the vision calling her back.

  “Yes, yes,” she wailed, “I’m ready!”

  As she pictured the black paddle landing squarely on her behind, the energy surged through her sex and the explosive climax shuddered through her.

  The spasms began to wane, then dissipate, and letting her fingers fall from between her legs she let out a long, deep sigh.

  “Weird. Brad. Wow.”

  Across town in his traditional, warm home, the competent, no-nonsense, rising star of Brader, Brader and Coombs was pacing around his living room with a scotch in his hand.

  Isobel is attracted to me, I can feel it. It’s not my imagination, I’m sure of it.

  If he was right, if the woman he’d been lusting after for months, and astonishingly shared his dark kink, it was a dream come true, but how could he make the dream a reality? Very soon she wouldn’t be working for him which would certainly help, but he would be responsible for her novel. Could he sustain a relationship with one of his authors? Would the company bosses even condone such a thing? Taking a sip of the rich, spicy amber alcohol, he shook his head as it slid down his throat.

  “There’s only one thing I can do,” he mumbled. “I have to talk to Ralph, lay it on the line, and pray he’ll give me his blessing.”

  Downing the last of his drink he placed the heavy crystal tumbler on the coffee table and headed into his bedroom. Stripping quickly he fell into bed, and closing his eyes, wrapped his fingers around his urgent cock. In spite of the late hour and the scotch lulling his brain he could easily see her at his mercy, standing with her cuffed wrists pulled high above her head, a spreader bar between her ankles.

  His hand quickened as he imagined drawing her puckered nipples into his mouth while moving his hands behind her to slap her ass. It was a long-held fantasy, one he’d yet to bring to life with any woman, and though it was simple in nature, the thought that he might experience it with Isobel sent shards of sensation through his loins.

  “I’d baby oil your bottom first,” he mumbled, “and spank that slippery skin while I suck your tits.”

  The imagery evolved, and he saw his fingers sliding between her hot cheeks to explore the out-of-bounds territory...his cock exploded, jerking in his hand, expelling his essence across his fingers as he groaned loudly, the orgasm tingling his skin, sending glorious wave after wave of pleasure.

  Too exhausted and spent to stumble to the bathroom he grabbed the edge of his sheet and wiped himself, then succumbed to the heavy sleep that quickly overwhelmed him.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  It was midmorning when a bright young blonde bubbled into the office. She was nineteen and full of verve, thrilled at the prospect of working for Brad Saunders, and as Isobel’s eyes fell upon her perfectly pretty face, her perfectly pretty clothes, and her perfectly visible cleavage, she felt a prickling at the back of her neck.

  “Hi,” the girl beamed. “I’m Brittany.”

  “Of course you are,” Isobel muttered. “Is that your real name or did you change it so people would compare you to Brittany Spears?”

  “Huh? What?” the girl frowned.

  “Brittany, hello, glad you could join us,” Brad smiled as he stood in his doorway. “Isobel will show you the ropes, and don’t worry if you get a bit befuddled. Next week when you’re by yourself just ask me if anything seems confusing and I’ll be happy to help you.”

  “Thanks, Mr. Saunders,” she grinned. “I’m really excited about working for you.”

  “Brad, please call me Brad, we’re not formal around here, are we Isobel?”

  “Uh, no,” Isobel replied, noting that Brittany was eyeing Brad like a cat watching a tasty goldfish in a bowl. “Why don’t you fetch a chair from the conference room down the hall so you can sit next to me?”

  “Oh, good idea,” Brittany giggled. “I can’t stand around all day, not in these heels.”

  As she clip-clopped out in what Isobel thought was a too-short skirt, Brad smiled knowingly.

  “Something wrong, Isobel?”

  “What? No, everything’s fine,” she replied lightly. “I’m crazy happy, and I can’t wait for dinner tonight.”

  Moving slowly across to her desk he perched himself on the edge and stared down at her.

  “You can’t kid a kidder,” he said dropping his voice. “You don’t like her.”

  Feeling the telltale blush cross her cheeks, she shifted uncomfortably and stared back at him.

  “She’s very, uh, trendy,” and I don’t know why, but I’m suddenly feeling jealous and possessive. I don’t want her sitting in my chair, bringing you coffee, giggling at your jokes.

  Brad knew the green-eyed monster when he saw it; he shook his head, and though he didn’t approve he felt a twinge of delight.

  “Isobel, she’s young and enthusiastic,” he said with a slightly scolding tone to his voice, “and you were like that once. Not trendy, as you put it, you’ve never been trendy, but don’t you remember when you first came dashing in here for your interview? You were out of breath and excited, and ten minutes late, full of apologies. That wasn’t so long ago.”

  “Sorry,” she mumbled, “I guess I’m feeling a bit weird about someone taking my place.”

  “That’s understandable,” he nodded, “your life has unexpectedly and dramatically changed, but it’s all good. Be magnanimous, make it easy on her, it’ll be less stressful for you if you go with the tide.”

  “Right,” she sighed.

  “Could you help me?”

  Brittany’s voice caught them both off guard, and looking across the foyer they saw her struggling with the chair, her high heels making it difficult for her to carry it. In spite of his kindly lecture, as Brad hurried forward Isobel rolled her eyes.

  A helpless female, just what I need.

  Brad positioned the chair, and trying to control her simmering irritation, Isobel grit her teeth as Brittany batted her false eyelashes at him.

  “Thank you so much, Mr...sorry, I mean, Brad,” she gushed.

  “You’re welcome. I must get back to work,” he smiled, and turning on his heel he strode back into his office.

  Settling into his desk he quietly chuckled. Isobel’s testiness wasn’t about her chair, or her desk, or her work, it was about him, and buoyed by the evidence of her attraction to him he flashed back to his fantasy.

  Maybe I’ll have you strung up and in a spreader bar sooner than I thought.

  Though Isobel did her best to be patient she found Brittany’s personality annoying, and when the lunch hour rolled around and Brittany headed off to meet some fellow interns, Isobel breathed a sigh of relief.

  Normally she’d wander across the street to the mall and meander around the bookstore, or sit in
the food court and people watch, but she’d not been able to read her emails. Once Brittany had perched her perfect posterior on the chair next to her, Isobel couldn’t do anything personal.

  Deciding to pop down to the small cafe in the building for something light to eat after she’d caught up with her life, she opened up her account and scanned her mail, and when she saw Patrick had sent her another note her heart stopped.

  Darn it, I still haven’t told him I won’t be there tonight.

  Clicking on the message she took a deep breath and began to read.

  Hello Isobel.

  What a naughty girl you are, not acknowledging my email yesterday. At the very least you should have sent a Yes, Sir, or Thank you, Sir, but nothing? Perhaps my email fell into cyber space, but my instinct tells me that’s not what happened, and for some reason known only to yourself you have chosen not to respond.

  Perhaps you want me to spank you soundly tonight. I most certainly will. Such impudent behavior will not be tolerated, and I am seriously considering not allowing you any pleasure after your punishment.

  Until tonight,

  Patrick

  “Another unwelcome email?” Brad asked.

  She hadn’t heard him leave his office, and as she looked up from her screen she nodded her head woefully.

  “In all the excitement yesterday I forgot to tell him I won’t be at class tonight. He’s accused me of being impudent and impolite.”

  “From his point of view I suspect he feels justified,” Brad remarked.

  “What should I tell him?” she frowned.

  “The truth,” Brad replied firmly. “The truth will set you free; a hackneyed phrase but one that’s generally correct. I have to run, I have a lunch appointment that you forgot to remind me about,” he scolded.

  “Oh, shoot, I’m sorry,” she apologized clicking over to the calendar on her computer. “James Dennison, at your club. Will you be late?”

  “I will,” he nodded, “but I’ve called him so he knows,” and one of these days I’m going to spank you for this mistake.

  “You’re looking at me funny,” she remarked. “What?”

  “I’ll tell you next week,” he smiled as he walked into the foyer and pushed the elevator call button.

  “Tell me now!” she demanded standing up from her desk.

  “Hey, you still work for me,” he said sternly, shaking his finger at her. “Don’t start getting too big for those cute shoes of yours.”

  The elevator dinged, and as she watched him disappear she felt the urgency between her legs.

  Damn, why didn’t I ever see how flippin’ sexy he is before now? And that cologne, why can’t I place it? Okay, Patrick, back to you, how should I respond?

  Sitting back down she opened up a new email form and began to type.

  Hi Patrick:

  I’m really sorry I didn’t get back to you immediately. Your email was very compelling, and thank you for sending it. Yesterday I had some astonishing things happen and got completely distracted, and tonight I have to attend a very important, last minute dinner. It’s all work related, and very exciting, but it’s news I must tell you in person. If I didn’t think it would end late I’d swing by the school and fill you in.

  Please forgive me, I really am very sorry and didn’t mean to be impolite. I hope your class goes really well.

  Talk to you soon,

  Isobel.

  After reading it through a couple of times she wasn’t convinced it was exactly right, but she didn’t want to tell him she wasn’t interested in any more personal time in an email. Taking a quick, nervous breath she hit the send button, then stared at the screen.

  Patrick, this is all so sudden and astounding. You are such a gorgeous man, and I hope I’m doing the right thing. Maybe if we spent more time together you would change your mind about not wanting a relationship.

  Suddenly feeling bewildered and confused, she shook herself and decided to head downstairs for a bite to eat. Mind spinning she picked up her bag and headed for the elevator, completely unaware that she’d left her computer on, and her email account still open.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Though Brad had been late for his luncheon appointment the meeting had proved successful, and as he drove back to his office his thoughts returned to Isobel. It wasn’t every day that a young woman found her life turned upside-down, and he couldn’t blame her for being somewhat perplexed and overwhelmed.

  With just two days left at a job she’d held for almost a year, and the exciting but daunting task of writing a full length novel that would be published, Brad knew she needed both emotional encouragement and solid support. Believing their relationship would evolve he decided to call Ralph Brader’s assistant in the hope that the senior partner would have time for a quick meeting that afternoon.

  As he pulled into the parking garage and walked into the elevator he was in good spirits. He had his own division, the girl he’d been hooked on for months was finally returning his feelings, and miraculously she shared his dark kink. As the elevator doors opened and he stepped into the foyer he was certainly not prepared for what greeted him.

  “You had no right!” he heard Isobel’s voice loudly exclaim.

  “You shouldn’t have left it open for all the world to see,” came Brittany’s shrill retort. “It’s not my fault, it’s yours!”

  “The minute you saw what it was should have walked away,” Isobel snapped. “Like I said, you had no right.”

  “Whoa, whoa, what’s going on here?” Brad frowned as he hurried towards them.

  Isobel was standing over Brittany who was seated in front of the computer; Isobel was clearly furious, her face was red, and he could see that Brittany was near tears.

  “Isobel, in my office, now,” he growled.

  “Not until she turns off that computer,” she said angrily.

  “Turn it off,” Brad ordered sternly.

  Pressing the power button Brittany shut down the machine, then fists clenched Isobel followed Brad into his inner sanctum, shutting the door behind her with a fearsome fury.

  “Count to ten, then tell me,” he directed. “No drama, no histrionics, just calmly tell me what happened.”

  “How can I be bloody calm?” she wailed.

  “Settle down, you’re being childish,” he scolded.

  “I won’t settle down, and I’m not being childish,” she shot back.

  It happened so quickly he wasn’t even aware of his conscious decision to act, but lunging forward he grabbed her wrist, raised his free hand, and brought it down with a flurry of fierce smacks on her backside. Releasing her just as quickly he stepped back, watching her gasp in shock and embarrassment, then grab her bottom.

  “You were throwing a tantrum. Now take a deep breath and calm down or I’ll throw you over my knee and spank you properly,” he blurted.

  Frozen, her eyes wide as she gaped at him, his threat hung in the air like a spicy aroma filled with the promise of a delicious dinner.

  Brad stared right back at her, captivated by her stunned expression and the odd posture she’d taken up when she’d thrown her hands behind her.

  Did I do that? Did I just say that? Okay, Brad, get a grip. Get a grip and back it up.

  “I mean it, Isobel, and let the chips fall where they may,” he warned. “I can’t help you or straighten this out if you don’t tell me exactly what happened with Brittany.”

  Gulping, hands still clutching her cheeks, Isobel stared back at him. Until recently she'd known him only as her somewhat removed, no-nonsense boss, and he’d suddenly made the leap into a sexy, hunky man who had just slapped her bottom and threatened to actually throw her over his knee. The wetness between her legs made her wriggle, and the butterflies in her stomach were going absolutely crazy.

  “Sorry,” she squeaked barely able to make her voice work.

  “Sit down,” he ordered pointing to a chair.

  Moving unsteadily forward she plopped down, and face burning sh
e gazed at her hands now fidgeting on her lap.

  “What’s happened to you?” he frowned. “Where’s the sweet, humble kind girl who used to sit outside my office? Has the promise of success gone to your head already?”

  “No,” she bleated, “and you’re right. I got carried away and I’m sorry.”

  “That’s better, now would you please tell me what happened,” he said impatiently sitting on the edge of his desk in front of her.

  “That email I received from Patrick, my teacher,” she continued, “it was really bothering me. I wrote him back but I wasn’t sure what I said was quite right, then I felt all weird again, so I decided to go downstairs and have some lunch, you know, clear my head a bit. When I came back up I found twinkletoes reading my mail.”

  “Using names doesn’t help,” he frowned. “Are you sure? Was she opening your mails and reading them, or had she just sat down and your mail program was open because you left it that way?”

  “Uh, she was sitting in front of my computer and...uh...,” she mumbled, her voice trailing off as she tried to remember exactly what was on the computer screen.

  “You’re not sure, so it’s entirely possible you accused her of something she didn’t do. It’s not her fault if you failed to log out of your email account. She was probably logging on to read her own. Did you even bother to ask?”

  “Um, no, I just, uh...”

  “Was an actual email open, or just the list of mails, and tell me the truth,” he frowned.

  “Um, just the list, I think,” she said quietly.

  “Stay there,” he directed, and standing up he walked out the door closing it firmly behind him.

  Brittany wasn’t at the desk, and he noticed his phone had been switched to the night answer mode. If anyone called it would go straight to his voice mail. Grimacing he strode down the hallway into the small kitchen and found her sniffling, making a fresh pot of coffee.

  “Brittany-”

  “I didn’t do anything,” she interrupted looking at him with pleading eyes. “I didn’t open any of her mails, I wouldn’t do that. I just sat down and hit the power button and the computer turned on and they were just there. She came over and started yelling at me. I didn’t do anything, I swear.”